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^  LIBRARY 

UNIVSMITY  OP 

CAUPORNIA 

,       SAN  DIEGO     J 


3  1822  01067  6062 


Charles  I.  [King  of  England) 
From  the  engraving  by  William  Faithornc 


THE 

KINGS' 


L 


7 


rics 


Lyrical  Poems  of  the  I(eigns  of 
KING  JAMES  L  and 
KING  CHAHLES  L 

Together  with  the  Ballad  of  Agincourt  writ' 
ten  by  Michael  Drayton.  Selected  &  arranged 

by   Fitzlioy   Carrington 

The  prcssc  hath  gathered  into  one,  what  fancic  had  scat- 
tered into  many  loose  papers.  —  William  Habington. 


Printed  for  Duffield  if  Company 

NEW    YORK 
1906 


ENTERED  according  to  ad  of  Congress,  in  the  year 
1899,  by  Robert  Howard  Russell,  in  the  office  of  the 
Librarian  of  Congress,  at  "Washington. 

This  Edition  published  September,  1906 


The    Preface 

J'ay  seulement  faid  icy  un  amas  de  fleurs.  n'y  ayant 
fourny  du  mien  que  le  filet  \  les  Iier. 

MICHEL  DE  MONTAIGNE. 

IT  is  singular^''  writes  Mr,  Swin- 
burne ^  ^uhat  the  first  great  age 
of  English  lyric  poetrij  should  have 
been  also  the  one  great  age  of 
English  dramatic  poetry :  but  it  is 
hardly  less  singular  that  the  lyric 
school  should  have  advanced  as 
steadily  as  the  dramatic  school  de- 
clined from  the  promise  of  its  dawn. 
Born  with  Marlowe,  it  rose  at  once 
with  Shcdespeare  to  heights  inac- 
cessible before  and  since  and  for 
ever^  to  sink  through  bright  grada- 
tions of  glorious  decline  to  its  final 


vi  The  Preface 

and  beautiful  sunset  in  Shirley  : 
but  the  lyrical  record  that  begins 
with  the  author  of '  Euphues'  and 
^ Endymion'  grows  fuller  if  not 
brighter  through  a  whole  chain  of 
constellations  till  it  culminates  in 
the  crowning  star  of  Merrick  .  .  . 
the  greatest  song-  writer — as  sure- 
ly as  Shakespeare  is  the  greatest 
dramatist — ever  bom  of  English 
race.'' 

The  reasons  for  this  growth  and 
decrease  are  not  far  to  seek. 
During  the  greater  portion  of  the 
reign  of  Oueen  Elizabeth  the 
newly-awaked  national  self-con- 
sciousness had  manifested  itself  in 
so  many  forms  that  the  whole  field 
of  literature  was  cultivated  and 


The   Preface  vii 

enriched.  With  the  passing  of 
7/ears^  however^  and  the  aging 
of  the  Que  en  ^  the  spirit  of  play- 
ful gallantry  inseparable  from  a 
female  court  was  gradually  suc- 
ceeded by  a  more  cold  and  gloomy 
system  of  manners^  and  the  poets 
concerned  themselves  more  and 
more  with  subfeds  of  an  abstrad 
or  religious  charader. 
Under  King  James  I.  (whowas  anx- 
ious to  pass  as  a  sacred  poet  and  has 
left^  amongst  other  works ^  a  metri- 
cal translation  of  the  first  thirty- 
one  Psalms\  lighter  poetry  found 
little  encouragement  and  was^  in 
general^  overweighted  by  the 
growing  spirit  of  puritanism.  The 
theatres  alone  seem  to  have  been 


viii  The  Preface 

the  refuge  of  genius^  and  no  era  of 
English  history  contains  so  many 
models  of  dramatic  excellence. 
With  the  accession  of  King  Charles 
I.  the  spirit  of  sprightliness  and 
courtly    gallantry    revived    and 
lyric  poetry  resumed  its  place  as 
a  fine  art.   King    Charles  ivasy 
throughout  his  reign,  a  liberal  pa- 
tron of  literature.,  and  was  repaid., 
in  time  of  trouble.,  by  a  personal 
affedion  and  a  devoted  loyalty 
from  the  poets  of  his  court.,  who 
knew  no  bounds  in  their  self-sac- 
rifice to  his  cause.   When  soldier 
and  courtier  combined  in  the  poet 
stirring  and  genuine  verse  was  to 
be  expeded. 
Of  James   Grahame.,  preemi- 


The  Preface  « 

nently  the  '^King's  Singer^'"  Car- 
dinal de  Retz^  the  friend  of  Conde 
and  of  Turenne^  wrote — ^' Mon- 
trose^ a  Scottish  nobleman^  head 
of  the  house  of  Grahame — the 
only  man  in  the  world  that  has 
ever  realized  to  me  the  ideas  of 
certain  heroes^  whom  we  now  dis- 
cover but  in  the  Lives  of  Plutarch 
— has  sustained  in  his  own  coun- 
try the  cause  of  the  King^  his  mas- 
ter^ with  a  greatness  of  soul  that 
has  not  found  its  equal  in  our  age. " 
Nor  were  there ^  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Wither^  any  of  the ' '  courtly 
Choir''  who  deserted  their  King 
when  aught  they  could  do  or  write 
might  help  or  cheer  him.  The  se- 
ledions  from  their  works  are  as 


X  The  Preface 

Julias  the  limits  of  this  volume  will 
permit. 

Unlike  most  of  the  anthologies  a 
fair  space  is  here  devoted  to  poems 
^^ divine  and  moral .'^  It  is  a  little 
strange  that^  in  general^  they  have 
been  so  little  represented^  for  as 
genuine  expressions  of  the  spirit 
of  the  age  that  saw  the  publication 
of  the  first  complete  and  cor  red 
translation  into  English  of  the 
Bible,  if  for  no  other  reason^  they 
demand  some  recognition.  Fortu- 
nately the  poems  of  such  writers 
as  Herbert,,  Quarles  and  Cra- 
shaw  are-,  each  year ^  less  and  less 
negleded,  and  while  few  critics 
would,,  to-day,,  rank  Crashaw  su- 
perior to  Herbert  in  fancy  and 


The  Preface  xi 

genius^  as  did  Ellis  in  "  Early 
English  Poets y'  none  would  agree 
with  the  observation  of  the  same 
writer^  who  in  commenting  upon 
Wotton's  statement  that  more  than 
ten  thousand  copies  of  Herbert  s 
poems  were  sold  during  his  life- 
time says  that  it  was  "a  circum- 
stance that  proves  the  religious 
zeal  much  more  than  the  good 
taste  of  his  contemporaries,'' 
A  writer  in  our  day  expressing 
such  an  opinion  might  run  some 
risk  of  being  counted  as  one 

"Who  says  tfiat  fidlions  onely  and  false  half 
Become  a  verse." 

Quarles  has  so  often  been  de- 
scribed as  '^quaint''  that  his  very 
modern  sense  of  humour  seems  to 


xii  The  Preface 

have  been  frequently/  overlooked, 
/lis  manly  vigour^  his  uncompro- 
mising independence^  his  disinter- 
ested patriotism  and  his  exalted 
piety  can  never  he  entirely  for- 
gotten. There  is  much  genuine 
poetry  to  be  found  in  his  volumi- 
nous work. 

In  most  of  the  extrads  modern 
spelling  has  been  adopted  except- 
ing where  it  seemed^  as  with  Her- 
bert and  Drayton^  to  be  a  greater 
loss  than  gain.  The  poems  of 
Lovelace  have  so  often  been  given 
in  their  modem  form  that  to  see 
them  as  originally  printed  may 
be  a  not  unwelcome  variation. 
It  is  rarely  well  to  cor  red  Kings  ^ 
therefore  the  compositions  of  King 


The  Preface  xiii 

James  I.  and  King  Charles  /. 
are  left^  as  nearly  as  may  be^ 
alone. 

^^Buty'  as  Humphrey  Moseley^ 
stationer y  writes ^  ^'I keep  back  the 
ingenuous  reader  by  my  unworthy 
preface.  The  gate  is  open^  and 
thy  soul  invited  to  a  garden  of 
ravishing  variety.'' 

FiTZROY  Carrington. 


Cofimodjcafe  loci  sz  ^ynauius  fcervr,  omas 
Ocfoxus  ncits  nuRo  froicirrtte  jpatcrcC 
'itue  mcttm  loif^a  ^mcem  licef  vsaue  iettrint ,  ^^ 
'  ^sa camtn  terra ac^pelt^ ^"^  Jedita  JkSrrte/c^ 


QjP^ 


James  VL  [King  of  Scotland) 
From  the  engraving  by  Crispin  van  dc  Pass 


The 


Kings'   Lyrics 


King  James  /.  (1566-1625) 
Ane  Schort  Poeme  of  Tyme 

As  I  was  pansing  in  a  morning  aire. 
And  could  not  sicip  nor  nawyis  take  me  rest, 
Furth  for  to  walk,  the  morning  was  so  faire, 
Athort  the  fields,  it  seemed  to  me  the  best. 
The  East  was  deare,  whereby  belyve  I  gest 
That  fyrie  Titan  cumming  was  in  sight. 
Obscuring  chaste  Diana  by  his  light. 

Who  by  his  rising  in  the  azure  skyes. 

Did  dewlit  helse  all  thanse  on  earth  do  dwell. 

The  balmy  dew  through  birning  drouth  he  dryis. 
Which  made  the  soile  to  savour  sweit  and  smell. 
By  dew  that  on  the  night  before  downefell. 

Which  then  was  soukit  up  by  the  Delphienus  heit 

Up  in  the  aire :  it  was  so  light  and  weit. 
I 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Whose  hie  ascending  in  this  pofpour  chere 
Provokit  all  from  Morpheus  to  flee : 

As  beasts  to  feid.  and  birds  to  sing  with  beir,'' 
Men  to  their  labour,  bissie  as  the  bee :      \ 
Yet  idle  men  devysing  did  I  see. 

How  for  to  drive  the  tyme  that  did  them  irk. 

By  sindrie  pastymes,  quhile  that  it  grew  mirk. 

Then  woondred  I  to  see  them  seik  a  wyle. 
So  willingly  the  precious  tyme  to  tine : 

And  how  they  did  themselfis  so  farr  begyle. 
To  fushe  of  tyme.  which  of  itself  is  fyne. 
Fra  tyme  be  past  to  call  it  backward  syne 

Is  bot  in  vaine :  therefore  men  sould  be  warr. 

To  sleuth  the  tyme  that  flees  fra  them  so  farr. 

For  what  hath  man  bot  tyme  into  this  life, 

"Which  gives  him  dayis  his  Cod  aright  to  know  ? 

Wherefore  then  sould  we  be  at  sic  a  stryfe. 
So  spedelie  our  selfis  for  to  withdraw 
Evin  from  the  tyme,  which  is  on  nowayes  slaw 

To  flie  from  us,  suppose  we  fled  it  nought  ? 

More  wyse  we  were,  if  we  the  tyme  had  sought. 

But  sen  that  tyme  is  sic  a  precious  thing, 

I  wald  we  sould  bestow  it  into  that 
Which  were  most  pleasour  to  our  heavenly  King. 


King  James  I 


Flee  ydilteth.  which  is  the  greatest  lat ; 

Bot.  sen  that  death  to  all  is  destinat. 
Let  us  employ  that  tyme  that  Cod  hath  send  us. 
In  doing  well,  that  good  men  may  commend  us. 


Sonnet 

WE  find  by  proof,  that  into  every  age 
In  Phoebus'  art  some  glistering  star  did  shine, 
"Who,  worthy  scholars  to  the  Muses  sage, 
Fulfill'd  their  Countries  with  their  works  divine. 
So  Homer  was  a  sounding  trumpet  fine 
Amongst  the  Creeks,  into  his  learned  days: 
So  Virgil  was  among  the  Romans  syne 
A  sprite  sublim'd,  a  pillar  of  their  praise  I 
So  lofty  Petrarch  his  renown  did  blaze 

In  tongue  Italic,  in  a  sugar'd  style. 
And  to  the  circled  skies  his  name  did  raise ; 

For  he.  by  poems  that  he  did  compile. 
Led  m  triumph.  Love,  Chasteness,  Death,  and  Fame: 
But  thou  triumphs  o'er  Petrarch's  proper  name  I 

Signed  "].  Rex." 
A  Sonnet  prefixed  to  Fowler's  Translation  o/Thc  Triumphs 
of  Petrarch. 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 
A  Sonnet 

Addressed  by  King  James  to  his  son  Prince 
Henry 

GOD  gives  not  kings  the  stile  of  Cods  in  vaine. 
For  on  his  throne  his  scepter  do  they  swey : 
And  as  their  subjects  ought  them  to  obey. 
So  kings  should  feare  and  serve  their  God  againe. 
If  then  ye  would  enjoy  a  happie  reigne. 
Observe  the  statutes  of  our  heavenly  King ; 
And  from  his  law  make  all  your  laws  to  spring : 
Since  his  lieutenant  here  ye  should  remaine. 
Rewarde  the  just,  be  stedfast,  true  and  plaine : 
Represse  the  proud,  maintayning  aye  the  right ; 
Waike  always  so,  as  ever  in  His  sight. 
Who  guardes  the  godly,  plaguing  the  prophane. 
And  so  ye  shall  in  princely  vertues  shine. 
Resembling  right  your  mightie  King  divine. 

Thomas  Campion  (—1619) 


H 


ARDEN  now  thy  tired  heart  with  more  than 

flinty  rage ! 
Ne'er  let  her  false  tears  henceforth  thy  constant 
grief  assuage ! 

4 


James  I.  {King  of  England) 
From  the  engraving  by  Simon  van  de  Pass 


Thomas  Campion 

Once  true  happy  days  thou  saw'st,  when  she  stood  firm 

and  kind ; 
Both  as  one  then  lived,  and  held  one  ear,  one  tongue, 

one  mind : 
But  now  those  bright  hours  be  fled  and  never  may  return : 
What  then  remains  but  her  untruths  to  mourn ! 

Silly  trait'ress.  who  shall  now  thy  careless  tresses  place  ? 
Who  thy  pretty  talk  supply  ?  whose  ear  thy  music  grace  ? 
Who  shall  thy  bright  eyes  admire,  what  lips  triumph 

with  thine  ? 
Day  by  day  who  '11  visit  thee  and  say  "  Th'  art  only  mine  "  ? 
Such  a  time  there  was,  God  wot,  but  such  shall  never  be. 
Too  oft,  I  fear,  thou  wilt  remember  me. 

From  Two  Books  of  Airs. 


LOVE  me  or  not,  love  her  I  must  or  die ; 
Leave  me  or  not,  follow  her  needs  must  I. 
O  that  her  grace  would  my  wished  comforts  give  I 
How  rich  in  her,  how  happy  I  should  live ! 

All  my  desire,  all  my  delight  should  be 
Her  to  enjoy,  her  to  unite  with  me ; 
Envy  should  cease,  her  would  I  love  alone: 
Who  loves  by  looks  is  seldom  true  to  one. 
5 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Could  I  enchant,  and  that  it  lawful  ■wefc. 
Her  would  I  charm  softly  that  none  should  hear; 
But  love  enforced  rarely  yields  firm  content : 
So  would  I  love  that  neither  should  repent. 

From  The  Fourth  Book  of  Airs. 


The  Bellman  s  Song 

MAIDS  to  bed  and  cover  coal ; 
Let  the  mouse  out  of  her  hole ; 
Crickets  in  the  chimney  sing 
Whilst  the  little  bell  doth  ring : 
If  fast  asleep,  who  can  tell 
When  the  clapper  hits  the  bell  ? 

from  Mclismata. 


NEVER  love  unless  you  can 
Bear  with  all  the  faults  of  man : 
Men  sometimes  will  jealous  be 
Though  but  little  cause  they  see : 
And  hang  the  head  as  discontent. 
And  speak  what  straight  they  will  repent. 

Men  that  but  one  saint  adore 
Make  a  show  of  love  to  more : 
6 


Thomas  Campion 

Beauty  must  be  scorned  in  none. 
Though  but  truly  served  in  one : 
For  what  is  courtship  but  disguise  ? 
True  hearts  may  have  dissemblmg  eyes. 

Men  when  their  affairs  require. 
Must  awhile  themselves  retire ; 
Sometimes  hunt  and  sometimes  hawk. 
And  not  ever  sit  and  talk  : 
If  these  and  such-Iike  you  can  bear. 
Then  like,  and  love,  and  never  fear ! 

From  The  Third  Book  of  Airs. 


NOW  winter  nights  enlarge 
The  number  of  their  hours. 
And  clouds  their  storms  discharge 
Upon  the  airy  towers. 
Now  let  the  chimneys  blaze. 
And  cups  o'erflow  with  wine; 
Let  well-tuned  words  amaze 
With  harmony  divine. 
Now  yellow  waxen  lights 
Shall  wait  on  honey  love. 

While  youthful  revels,  masques,  and  courtly  sights 
Sleep's  leaden  spells  remove. 
7 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

This  time  doth  well  dispense 

With  lovers'  long  discourse; 

Much  speech  hath  some  defense 

Though  beauty  no  remorse. 

All  do  not  all  things  well ; 

Some  measures  comely  tread. 

Some  knotted  riddles  tell. 

Some  poems  smoothly  read. 

The  summer  hath  his  joys 

And  winter  his  delights ; 

Though  love  and  all  his  pleasures  are  but  toys. 

They  shorten  tedious  nights. 

From  The  Third  Book  of  Airs. 


Cherry  I(ipe 

THERE  is  a  garden  in  her  face 
Where  roses  and  white  lilies  grow : 
A  heavenly  paradise  is  that  place 
Wherein  all  pleasant  fruits  do  flow. 

There  cherries  grow  which  none  may  buy. 
Till  "Cherry  ripe"  themselves  do  cry. 

Those  cherries  fairly  do  enclose 
Of  orient  pearl  a  double  row. 
Which  when  her  lovely  laughter  shows, 
8 


Robert  Jones 


They  look  like  rose-buds  filled  with  snow ; 
Yet  them  nor  peer  nor  prince  can  buy. 
Till  "Cherry  ripe"  themselves  do  cry. 

Her  eyes,  like  angels,  watch  them  still. 
Her  brows  like  bended  bows  do  stand. 
Threatening  with  piercing  frowns  to  kill 
All  that  attempt  with  eye  or  hand 
Those  sacred  cherries  to  come  nigh 
Till  "Cherry  ripe"  themselves  do  cry. 

From  The  Fourth  Book  of  Airs. 


Robert  Jones 


AND  is  it  night  ?  are  they  thine  eyes  that  shine  ? 
Are  we  alone,  and  here  ?  and  here,  alone  ? 
May  I  come  near,  may  I  but  touch  thy  shrine  ? 
Is  jealousy  asleep,  and  is  he  gone  ? 
O  Gods,  no  more !  silence  my  lips  with  thine  f 
Lips,  kisses,  joys,  hap,  blessing  most  divine ! 

O  come,  my  dear !  our  griefs  are  turn'd  to  night. 

And  night  to  joys ;  night  blinds  pale  envy's  eyes ; 
Silence  and  sleep  prepare  us  our  delight, 

O  cease  we  then  our  woes,  our  griefs,  our  cries: 
O  vanish  words !  words  do  but  passions  move : 
O  dearest  life !  joy's  sweet !  O  sweetest  love ! 

Yrom  The  Mosicil  Dream, 
o 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

SOFT,  Cupid,  soft,  there  is  no  haste. 
For  all  unkindness  gone  and  past : 
Since  thou  wilt  needs  forsake  me  so. 
Let  us  part  friends  before  thou  go. 

Still  shalt  thou  have  my  heart  to  use,  — 
When  otherwise  I  cannot  chuse : 
My  life  thou  mayst  command  sans  doubt. 
Command,  I  say,  —  and  go  without. 

And  if  that  I  do  ever  prove 
False  and  unkind  to  gentle  Love, 
I  '11  not  desire  to  live  a  day 
Nor  any  longer — than  I  may. 

I  '11  daily  bless  the  little  god,  — 
But  not  without  a  smarting  rod. 
Wilt  thou  still  unkindly  leave  me  ? 
Now  I  pray  Cod, — all  ill  go  with  thee! 

From  The  Mdscs'  Garden  of  Delights 


THE  sea  hath  many  thousand  sands. 
The  sun  hath  motes  as  many ; 
The  sky  is  full  of  stars,  and  love 
As  full  of  woes  as  any- 
Believe  me.  that  do  know  the  elL 
And  make  no  trial  by  thyself. 

10 


Thomas  Vauter 

It  is  in  truth  a  pretty  toy 

For  babes  to  play  withal ; 

But  O  the  homes  of  our  youth 

Are  oft  our  age's  gall ! 

Self -proof  in  time  will  make  thee  know 

He  was  a  prophet  told  thee  so : 

A  prophet  that.  Cassandra-like, 

Tells  truth  without  belief ; 

For  headstrong  youth  will  run  his  race. 

Although  his  goal  be  grief : 

Love's  martyr,  when  his  heat  is  past. 

Proves  Care's  confessor  at  the  last. 

From  The  Moses'  Garden  of  Delights. 


Thomas  Vauter 

TuwhoOy   Tuwhit,    Tuwhit, 
Tuwhoo-o-o 


s 


WEET  Suffolk  owl,  so  trimly  dight 
With  feathers  like  a  lady  bright. 
Thou  sing'st  alone,  sitting  by  night, 
Te  whit,  te  whoo  I 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Thy  note,  that  forth  so  freely  rolls. 

With  shrill  command  the  mouse  controls. 
And  sings  a  dirge  for  dying  souls, 
Te  whit,  te  whoo ! 

From  Songs  of  Divers  Airs  and  Natures. 


Thomas  Middleton  (i^-jol-ibij) 


Simplicity 


HAPPY  times  we  live  to  see. 
Whose  master  is  Simplicity : 
This  is  the  age  where  blessings  flow. 
In  joy  we  reap,  in  peace  we  sow ; 
We  do  good  deeds  without  delay. 
We  promise  and  we  keep  our  day; 
We  love  for  virtue,  not  for  wealth. 
We  drink  no  healths  but  all  for  health ; 
We  sing,  we  dance,  we  pipe,  we  play. 
Our  work's  continual  holiday ; 
We  live  in  poor  contented  sort. 
Yet  neither  beg  nor  come  at  court. 

Yrom  The  World  tost  at  Tennis. 


13 


H.  Farley 

Henry  Farley 
A   Complaint 

To  see  a  strange  outlandish  fowl, 
A  quaint  baboon,  an  ape,  an  owl, 
A  dancing  bear,  a  giant's  bone, 

A  foolish  engine  move  alone, 

A  morns-dance,  a  puppet-play. 

Mad  Tom  to  sing  a  roundelay, 

A  woman  dancing  on  a  rope, 

BuII-baiting  also  at  the  Hope. 

A  rimer's  jests,  a  juggler's  cheats. 

A  tumbler  showing  cunning  feats. 

Or  players  acting  on  a  stage,  — 

There  goes  the  bounty  of  our  age : 
But  unto  any  pious  motion 
There's  little  coin  and  less  devotion. 

From  St.  Paul's  Church,  her  Bill  for  the  Partimcnt. 


Q 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 


William  Drummond  (1585-1649) 
To  a  Nightingale 

SWEET  bird,  that  sing'st  away  the  early  hours 
Of  winters  past,  or  coming,  void  of  care. 
Well  pleased  with  delights  which  present  are. 
Fair  seasons,  budding  sprays,  sweet-smelling  flow'rs : 
To  rocks,  to  springs,  to  nils,  from  leavy  bow'rs 
Thou  thy  Creator's  goodness  dost  declare. 
And  what  dear  gifts  on  thee  he  did  not  spare, 
A  stain  to  human  sense  in  sin  that  low'rs. 
What  soul  can  be  so  sick,  which  by  thy  songs 
(Attir'd  in  sweetness)  sweetly  is  not  driven 
Quite  to  forget  earth's  turmoils,  spites,  and  wrongs. 
And  lift  a  reverend  eye  and  thought  to  heaven  ? 
Sweet,  artless  songster,  thou  my  mind  dost  raise 
To  airs  of  spheres,  yes,  and  to  angels'  lays. 


Sonnet  II 

1KNOW  that  all  beneath  the  moon  decays. 
And  what  by  mortals  in  this  -w  'Id  is  brought 
In  Time's  great  periods  shall  return  to  nought: 
That  fairest  states  have  fatal  nights  and  days. 
»4 


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William  Drummond  of  Hawihornden 
After  the  painting  by  Cornelius  Johnson 


William  Drummond 

I  know  that  all  the  Muses'  heavenly  lays. 
With  toil  of  sprite,  which  are  so  dearly  bought. 
As  idle  sounds,  of  few  or  none  are  sought : 
That  there  is  nothing  lighter  than  vain  praise. 
I  know  frail  beauty 's  like  the  purple  flow'r. 
To  which  one  morn  oft  birth  and  death  affords: 
That  love  a  jarring  is  of  mind's  accords. 
Where  sense  and  will  bring  under  reason's  power ; 
Know  what  I  list,  this  all  cannot  me  move. 
But  that,  alas.  I  both  must  write  and  love. 


Sonnet  XXXVI 

PHOEBUS,  arise. 
And  paint  the  sable  skies 
With  azure,  white,  and  red : 
Rouse  Memnon's  mother  from  her  Tython's  bed. 
That  she  thy  career  may  with  roses  spread. 
The  nightingales  thy  coming  each  where  sing. 
Make  an  eternal  spring. 
Give  life  to  this  dark  world  which  lieth  dead ; 
Spread  forth  thy  golden  hair 
In  larger  locks  than  thou  wast  wont  before. 
And  emperor-like  decore 
With  diadem  of  pearls  thy  temples  fair : 
Chase  hence  the  ugly  night, 
•5 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Which  serves  but  to  make  dear  thy  glorious  light. 
This  is  that  happy  morn. 
That  day.  long-wished  day. 
Of  all  my  life  so  dark, 
(If  cruel  stars  have  not  my  ruin  sworn. 
And  Fates  my  hopes  betray) 
Which  (purely  white)  deserves 
An  everlasting  diamond  should  it  mark. 
This  is  the  morn  should  bring  unto  this  grove 
My  love,  to  hear,  and  recompense  my  love. 
Fair  king,  who  all  preserves. 
But  shew  thy  blushing  beams. 
And  thou  two  sweeter  eyes 
Shalt  see  than  those  which  by  Peneus*  streams 
Did  once  thy  heart  surprise : 
Nay,  suns  which  shine  as  clear 
As  thou  when  two  thou  didst  to  Rome  appear. 
Now,  Flora,  deck  thyself  in  fairest  guise. 
If  that  ye  winds  would  hear 
A  voice  surpassing  far  Amphion's  lyre. 
Your  furious  chiding  stay. 
Let  Zephyr  only  breathe. 
And  with  her  tresses  play. 
Kissing  sometimes  those  purple  ports  of  death. 
The  winds  all  silent  are. 
And  Phoebus  in  his  chaif, 
Ensaffroning  sea  and  air, 
i6 


William  Drummond 

Makes  vanish  every  star : 

Night  like  a  drunkard  reels 

Beyond  the  hills,  to  shun  his  flaming  wheels. 

The  fields  with  flow'rs  are  deck'd  in  every  hue. 

The  clouds  with  orient  gold  spangle  their  blue : 

Here  is  the  pleasant  place. 

And  nothing  wanting  is,  save  she,  alas ! 


Sonnet  LXX 

SWEET  Spring,  thou  com'st  with  all  thy  goodly 
train. 
Thy  head  with  flames,  thy  mantle   bright  with 
flow'rs. 
The  zephyrs  curl  the  green  locks  of  the  plain. 
The  clouds  for  joy  in  pearls  weep  down  their  show'rs. 
Sweet  Spring,  thou  com'st — but,  ah !  my  pleasant  hours. 
And  happy  days,  with  thee  come  not  again : 
The  sad  memorials  only  of  my  pain 
Do  with  thee  come,  which  turn  my  sweets  to  sours. 
Thou  art  the  same  which  still  thou  wert  before, 
Delicious,  lusty,  amiable,  fair; 
But  she  whose  breath  embalm 'd  thy  wholesome  aif 
Is  gone ;  nor  gold,  nor  gems  can  her  restore. 
Negleded  virtue,  seasons  go  and  come. 
When  thine  forgot  lie  closed  in  a  tomb. 
7 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 
Sonnet  LXXIII 

'Y  lute,  be  as  thou  wert  when  thou  didst  grow 
With  thy  green  mother  in  some  shady  grove. 
When  immelodious  winds  but  made  thee  move. 
And  birds  their  ramage  did  on  thee  bestow. 
Since  that  dear  voice  which  did  thy  sounds  approve. 
Which  wont  in  such  harmonious  strains  to  flow. 
Is  reft  from  earth  to  tune  those  spheres  above. 
What  art  thou  but  a  harbinger  of  woe  ? 
Thy  pleasing  notes  be  pleasing  notes  no  more. 
But  orphans'  wailings  to  the  fainting  ear. 
Each  stroke  a  sigh,  each  sound  draws  forth  a  tear. 
For  which  be  silent  as  in  woods  before : 
Or  if  that  any  hand  to  touch  thee  deign. 
Like  widow'd  turtle  still  her  loss  complain. 


Of  a  Bee 

ODO  not  kill  that  bee 
That  thus  hath  wounded  thee  I 
Sweet,  it  was  no  despite. 
But  hue  did  him  deceive : 
For  when  thy  lips  did  close. 
He  deemed  them  a  rose. 
i8 


King  Charles  I 


What  -wouldst  thou  further  crave  ? 

He  wanting  wit.  and  blinded  with  delight. 

Would  fain  have  kiss'd.  but  mad  with  joy  did  bite. 


King  Charles  I.  (1600-1649) 
Majefty  in  Mifery 

GREAT  Monarch  of  the  world,  from  whose  power 
springs 
The  potency  and  power  of  kings. 
Record  the  royal  woe  my  suffering  sings : 

And  teach  my  tongue,  that  ever  did  confine 

Its  faculties  m  truth's  seraphick  line. 

To  track  the  treasons  of  thy  foes  and  mine. 

Nature  and  law,  by  thy  divine  decree, 
(The  only  root  of  righteous  royaltie) 
With  this  dim  diadem  invested  me : 

With  it,  the  sacred  scepter,  purple  robe. 
The  holy  undion,  and  the  royal  globe : 
Yet  am  I  levell'd  with  the  life  of  Job. 

The  fiercest  furies,  that  do  daily  tread 
Upon  my  grief,  my  grey  discrowned  head. 
Are  those  that  owe  my  bounty  for  their  bread. 
•9 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

They  raise  a  -war.  and  christen  it  THE  CAUSE, 
While  sacriligeous  hands  have  best  applause. 
Plunder  and  murder  are  the  kingdom's  laws ; 

Tyranny  bears  the  title  of  taxation. 
Revenge  and  robbery  are  reformation. 
Oppression  gains  the  name  of  sequestration. 

My  loyal  subjeds,  who  in  this  bad  season 
Attend  me  (by  the  law  of  God  and  reason). 
They  dare  impeach,  and  punish  for  high  treason. 

Next  at  the  clergy  do  their  furies  frown. 

Pious  episcopacy  must  go  down. 

They  will  destroy  the  crosier  and  the  crown. 

Churchmen  are  chain'd  and  schismaticks  are  freed, 
Mechanicks  preach,  and  holy  fathers  bleed. 
The  crown  is  crucified  with  the  creed. 

The  Church  of  England  doth  all  fadtions  foster. 
The  pulpit  is  userpt  by  each  impostor. 
Extempore  excludes  the  Paternoster. 

The  Presbyter  and  Independent  seed 
Spring  with  broad  blades.  To  make  religion  bleed 
Herod  and  Pontius  Pilate  are  agreed. 
20 


King  Charles  I 


The  corner  stone's  misplac'd  by  every  pavier : 
With  such  a  bloody  method  and  behaviour 
Their  ancestors  did  crucifie  our  Saviour. 

My  royal  consort,  from  whose  fruitful  womb 
So  many  princes  legally  have  come. 
Is  forc'd  in  pilgrimage  to  seek  a  tomb. 

Great  Britain's  heir  is  forced  into  France, 
Whilst  on  his  father's  head  his  foes  advance : 
Poor  child !  he  weeps  out  his  inheritance. 

With  my  own  power  my  majesty  they  wound. 
In  the  king's  name  the  king  himself's  uncrown'A, 
So  doth  the  dust  destroy  the  diamond. 

With  propositions  daily  they  enchant 
My  people's  ears,  such  as  do  reason  daunt. 
And  the  Almighty  will  not  let  me  grant. 

They  promise  to  ercd  my  royal  stem. 
To  make  me  great,  t'  advance  my  diadem. 
If  I  will  first  fall  down,  and  worship  them  I 

But  for  refusal  they  devour  my  thrones. 
Distress  my  children,  and  destroy  my  bones: 
I  fear  they  'U  force  me  to  make  bread  of  stones. 
31 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

My  life  they  prize  at  such  a  slender  rate. 
That  in  my  absence  they  draw  bills  of  hate. 
To  prove  the  king  a  traytor  to  the  state. 

Felons  obtain  more  privilege  than  I, 
They  are  allow 'd  to  answer  ere  they  die ; 
'Tis  death  for  me  to  ask  the  reason  why. 

But,  sacred  Saviour,  with  thy  words  I  woo 

Thee  to  forgive,  and  not  be  bitter  to 

Such,  as  thou  know'st  do  not  know  what  they  do. 

For.  since  they  from  their  Lord  are  so  disjointed. 
As  to  contemn  those  edidls  he  appointed. 
How  can  they  prize  the  power  of  his  anointed? 

Augment  my  patience,  nullifie  my  hate. 

Preserve  my  issue,  and  inspire  my  mate. 

Yet.  though  we  perish,  BLESS  THIS  CHURCH  AND 

STATE. 

Written  while  prisoner  in  Carisbrook  Castle. 


On  a  Ouiet  Con/cience 

LOSE  thine  eyes,  and  sleep  secure : 
Thy  soul  is  safe,  thy  body  sure. 
He  that  guards  thee,  he  that  keeps, 

22 


C 


George  Sandys 

Never  slumbers,  never  sleeps. 

A  quiet  conscience  in  the  breast 

Has  only  peace,  has  only  rest. 

The  wisest  and  the  mirth  of  kings 

Are  out  of  tune  unless  she  sings : 

Then  close  thine  eyes  in  peace  ani  sleep  secure. 

No  sleep  so  sweet  as  thine,  no  rest  so  sure. 


George  Sandys  (1577-1643) 
To  King  Charles  I. 

THE  Muse  who  from  your  influence  took  her  birth. 
First  wander'd  through  the  many-peopled  earth : 
Next  sung  the  change  of  things,  disclos'd  th'  un- 
known. 
Then  to  a  nobler  shape  transform 'd  her  own: 
Fetch'd  from  Engaddi  spice,  from  Jewry  balm. 
And  bound  her  brows  with  Idumaan  palm ; 
Now,  old.  hath  her  last  voyage  made,  and  brought 
To  royal  harbour  this  her  sacred  fraught : 
Who  to  her  King  bequeathes  the  wealth  of  kings; 
And  dying,  her  own  epicedium  sings. 


^3 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 
To  the  Queen 

CHASTE  Nymph,  you  -who  extradted  are 
From  that  swift  Thunderbolt  of  war :  * 
Whose  innocence  and  meekness  prove 
An  eagle  may  beget  a  dove ; 
In  this  clear  mirror  you  may  find 
The  image  of  your  own  fair  mind ; 
With  each  attractive  excellence. 
Which  feasts  the  more  refined  sense : 
The  crowned  muse  from  heav'n  inspir'd 
With  such  rich  beauties  hath  attir'd 
The  Sacred  Spouse :  for  what  below 
The  sun  could  more  perfection  show  ? 
Dedication  0/ A  Paraphrase  upon  the  Songs  of  Solomon. 


THOU  brought'st  me  home  in  safety,  that  this  earth 
Might  bury  me,  which  fed  me  from  my  birth : 
Blest  with  a  healthful  age.  a  quiet  mind. 
Content  with  little,  to  this  work  design'd : 
Which  I  at  length  have  finish'd  by  Thy  aid. 
And  now  my  vows  have  at  Thy  altar  paid. 
From  Deo  Opt.  Max.  at  the  conclusion  of  the  Paraphrases. 

*  Henrietta  Maria,  daughter  of  Henry  IV.  of  France. 


James  Graham  [Marquis  of  Montrose) 
From    the    engraving    by    Houbrakcn 
after  the  painting  by  William  Dobson 


J.  Grahame 

James    Grahame^    Marquis    of 
Montr  of e  (i6i  2-1650) 

My  Dear  and  Only  Love 

MY  dear  and  only  love,  I  pray 
That  little  world.  — of  Thee,— 
Be  governed  by  no  other  way 
Than  purest  monarchy. 
For  if  confusion  have  a  part. 

Which  virtuous  souls  abhor, 
I'll  call  a  Synod  in  mine  heart. 
And  never  love  thee  more. 

As  Alexander  I  will  reign. 

And  I  will  reign  alone : 
My  thoughts  did  evermore  disdain 

A  rival  on  my  throne : 
He  either  fears  his  fate  too  much. 

Or  his  deserts  are  small. 
That  dares  not  put  it  to  the  touch. 

To  gain  or  lose  it  all. 


^5 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

But  I  will  reign  and  govern  still. 

And  always  give  the  law. 
And  have  each  subjecll  at  my  will. 

And  have  all  stand  in  awe. 
But  'gainst  my  batteries  if  I  find 

Thou  kick  or  vex  me  sore. 
As  that  thou  set  me  up  a  blind, 

I  '11  never  love  thee  more. 


And  in  the  empire  of  thine  heart. 

Where  I  should  solely  be. 
If  others  do  pretend  a  part. 

Or  dare  to  vie  with  me : 
Or  if  committees  thou  eredl. 

And  go  on  such  a  score, 
I  '11  laugh  and  sing  at  thy  negledt. 

And  never  love  thee  more. 

But  if  thou  wilt  prove  faithful  then. 

And  constant  of  thy  word, 
I'll  make  thee  famous  by  my  pen. 

And  glorious  by  my  sword: 
I  '11  serve  thee  in  such  noble  ways 

Was  never  heard  before, 
I  '11  crown  and  deck  thee  all  with  bays. 

And  love  thee  more  and  more. 
26 


George  Wither 
From  the  engraving  by  John  Payne 


George  Wither 
On  the  Execution  of  Charles  /. 

GREAT,  good,  and  just,  could  I  but  rate 
My  grief  with  thy  too  rigid  fate. 
I  'd  weep  the  world  m  such  a  strain 
As  It  should  deluge  once  again ; 
But  since  thy  loud-tongued  blood  demands  supplies 
More  from  Bnareus'  hands  than  Argus'  eyes. 
I  'II  sing  thy  obsequies  with  trumpet  sounds. 
And  write  thy  epitaph  in  blood  and  wounds. 


George  Wither  (1588-1667) 


Sonnet 

SHALL  I,  wasting  in  despair. 
Die  because  a  woman's  fair  ? 
Or  make  pale  my  cheeks  with  care 
'Cause  another's  rosy  are  ? 
Be  she  fairer  than  the  day. 
Or  the  flowery  meads  in  May ; 
If  she  be  not  so  to  me. 
What  care  I  how  fair  she  be  ? 


27 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Shall  my  foolish  heart  be  pin'd. 

'Cause  I  see  a  woman  kind  ? 

Or  a  well-disposed  nature 

Joined  with  a  lovely  feature  ? 

Be  she  meeker,  kinder,  than 

Turtle-dove  or  pelican ; 
If  she  be  not  so  to  me. 
What  care  I  how  kind  she  be  ? 

Shall  a  woman's  virtues  move 
Me  to  perish  for  her  love  ? 
Or  her  merit's  value  known. 
Make  me  quite  forget  mine  own  ? 
Be  she  with  that  goodness  blest 
Which  may  gain  her  name  of  best; 

If  she  be  not  such  to  me. 

What  care  I  how  good  she  be  ? 

'Cause  her  fortune  seems  too  high. 
Shall  I  play  the  fool  and  die  ? 
Those  that  bear  a  noble  mind 
Where  they  want  of  riches  find. 
Think  what  with  them  they  would  do. 
That  without  them  dare  to  woo ; 

And  unless  that  mind  I  see. 

What  care  I  though  great  she  be  ? 

38 


George  Wither 

Great,  of  good,  of  kind,  of  fair, 
I  -will  ne'ef  the  more  despair: 
If  she  love  me,  this  believe, 
I  will  die  e'er  she  shall  grieve : 
If  she  slight  me  -when  I  woo, 
I  can  scorn  and  let  her  go : 
For  if  she  be  not  for  me. 
What  care  I  for  whom  she  be  ? 


Sonnet  upon  a  Stolen  Kifs 

Now  gentle  sleep  hath  closed  up  those  eyes 
Which,  waking,  kept  my  boldest  thoughts  in  awe ! 
And  free  access  unto  that  sweet  lip  lies. 
From  whence  I  long  the  rosy  breath  to  draw. 
Methinks  no  wrong  it  were,  if  I  should  steal 
From  those  two  melting  rubies,  one  poor  kiss ; 
None  sees  the  theft  that  would  the  theft  reveal. 
Nor  rob  I  her  of  ought  what  she  can  miss : 
Nay  should  I  twenty  kisses  take  away. 
There  would  be  little  sign  I  would  do  so ; 
Why  then  should  I  this  robbery  delay  ? 
Oh !  she  may  wake,  and  therewith  angry  grow  I 
Well,  if  she  do,  I  '11  back  restore  that  one. 
And  twenty  hundred  thousand  more  for  loan. 
29 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

AMARYLLIS  I  did  woo. 
And  I  courted  Phillis  too ; 
Daphne  for  her  love  I  chose ; 
Chloris  for  that  damask  rose 
In  her  cheek  I  held  as  dear ; 
Yea,  a  thousand  Iik'd.  well-near; 
And,  in  love  with  all  together. 
Feared  the  enjoying  either; 
'Cause  to  be  of  one  possest, 
Barr'd  the  hope  of  all  the  rest. 


LORDLY  gallants,  tell  me  this : 
Though  my  safe  content  you  weigh  not. 
In  your  greatness  what  one  bliss 
Have  you  gain'd  that  I  enjoy  not  ? 
You  have  honours,  you  have  wealth; 
I  have  peace,  and  I  have  health ; 
All  the  day  I  merry  make. 
And  at  night  no  care  I  take. 

Bound  to  none  my  fortunes  be ; 

This  or  that  man's  fall  I  fear  not; 
Him  I  love  that  loveth  me : 

For  the  rest  a  pin  I  care  not. 
30 


George  Wither 

You  are  sad  when  others  chafe. 
And  grow  merry  as  they  laugh ! 
I,  that  hate  it.  and  am  free. 
Laugh  and  weep  as  pleaseth  me. 


HENCE,  away,  thou  Siren,  leave  me ! 
Pish !  unclasp  these  wanton  arms ! 
Sugar'd  words  can  ne'er  deceive  me. 
Though  thou  prove  a  thousand  charms. 
Fie,  fie,  forbear! 
No  common  snare 
Can  ever  my  affedion  chain : 
Thy  painted  baits. 
And  poor  deceits. 
Are  all  bestow'd  on  me  in  vain. 

I  'm  no  slave  to  such  as  you  be. 

Nor  shall  that  soft  snowy  breast. 
Rolling  eye.  and  lip  of  ruby. 
Ever  rob  me  of  my  rest. 
Co.  go  display 
Thy  beauty's  ray 
To  some  more-sooa-enaraour'd  swain : 

3' 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Those  forced  wiles 
Of  sighs  and  smiles 
Are  all  bestow'd  on  me  in  vain. 


I  have  elsewhere  vow'd  a  duty; 
Turn  away  thy  tempting  eye : 
Shew  not  me  thy  painted  beauty ; 
These  impostures  I  defy. 

My  spirit  loaths 

Where  gaudy  clothes 
And  feigned  oaths  may  love  obtain : 

I  love  her  so 

Whose  looks  swear  no 
That  all  thy  labour  will  be  vain. 

Can  he  prize  the  tainted  posies 

Which  on  other's  breast  are  worn. 
That  may  pluck  the  virgin  roses 
From  the  never-touched  thorn? 

I  can  go  rest 

On  her  sweet  breast 
That  is  the  pride  of  Cynthia's  train : 

Then  stay  thy  tongue. 

Thy  mermaid  song 
Is  all  bestow'd  on  me  in  vain. 

3' 


George  Wither 

He 's  a  fool  that  basely  dallies 

Where  each  peasant  mates  with  him. 
Shall  I  haunt  the  thronged  vallies. 
"Whilst  there  *s  noble  hills  to  dimb  ? 
No,  no:  —  though  clowns 
Are  scar'd  with  frowns, 
I  know  the  best  can  but  disdain : 
And  those  I  '11  prove. 
So  will  thy  love 
Be  all  bestow'd  on  me  in  vain. 

I  do  scorn  to  vow  a  duty 

Where  each  lustful  lad  may  woo 
Give  me  her  whose  sun-like  beauty 
Buzzards  dare  not  soar  unto. 
She.  she  it  is 
Affords  that  bliss 
For  which  I  would  refuse  no  pain : 
But  such  as  you. 
Fond  fools,  adieu ! 
You  seek  to  captive  me  in  vain. 

33 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

Leave  me  then,  thou  Siren.  leave  me  I 
Seek  no  more  to  work  my  harms : 
Crafty  wiles  cannot  deceive  me ; 
I  am  proof  against  your  charms. 

You  labour  may 

To  lead  astray 
The  heart  that  constant  shall  remain ; 

And  I  the  while 

Will  sit  and  smile 
To  see  you  spend  your  time  in  vain. 


A  Dirge 


FAREWELL. 

Sweet  groves,  to  yon  1 

You  hills  that  highest  dwell. 

And  all  you  humble  vales  adieu  I 

Yon  wanton  brooks,  and  solitary  rocks ; 

My  dear  companions  all,  and  you  my  tender  flocks  I 

Fare wcll,my  pipe !  and  all  those  pleasing  songs,whosc  moving  strains 

Delighted  once  the  fairest  nymphs  that  dance  upon  the  plains. 

Yon  discontents,  whose  deep  and  over-deadly  smart 

Have  without  pity  broke  the  truest  heart. 

Sighs,  tears,  and  every  sad  annoy. 

That  erst  did  with  me  dwell. 

And  others  joy 

Farewell  I 

34 


W.  Browne 

William  Browne  (1590-1650?) 
Song  of  the  Sirens 

STEER  hither,  steer  your  winged  pines. 
All-beaten  mariners! 

Here  lie  Love's  undiscovered  mines, 

A  prey  to  passengers ; 
Perfumes  far  sweeter  than  the  best 
Which  make  the  Phcenix'  urn  and  nest. 

Fear  not  your  ships. 
Nor  any  to  oppose  you  save  our  lips ; 

But  come  on  shore 
Where  no  joy  dies  till  love  nath  gotten  more. 

For  swelling  waves  our  panting  breasts. 

Where  never  storms  arise. 
Exchange,  and  be  awhile  our  guests : 

For  stars  gaze  on  our  eyes. 
The  compass  love  shall  hourly  sing. 
And  as  he  goes  about  the  ring. 

We  will  not  miss 
To  tell  each  point  he  nameth  with  a  kiss. 
Chorus : 

Then  come  on  shore. 
Where  no  joy  dies  till  love  hath  gotten  more. 

From  The  Inner  Temple  Masque. 

35 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Venus  and  Adonis 

VENUS  by  Adonis'  side 
Crying  kiss'd  and  kissing  cried ; 
Wrung  her  hands  and  tore  her  haif 
For  Adonis  dying  there. 

Stay  !  quoth  she :  O  stay  and  live  f 
Nature  surely  does  not  give 
To  the  earth  her  sweetest  flowers 
To  be  seen  but  some  few  hours. 

On  his  face,  still  as  he  bled. 
For  each  drop  a  tear  she  shed. 
Which  she  kiss'd  or  wiped  away. — 
Else  had  drown'd  him  where  he  lay. 

Fair  Proserpina,  quoth  she. 
Shall  not  have  thee  yet  from  me ; 
Nor  thy  soul  to  fly  begin 
While  my  lips  can  keep  it  in. 

Here  she  closed  again.  And  some 
Say  —  Apollo  would  have  come 
To  have  cured  his  wounded  limb  — 
But  that  she  had  smother'd  him. 
36 


Robert  Herrick 
From  the  engraving  by  William  Marshall 


R.  Herrick 

Robert  Herrick  (1591-1674) 

Delight  in  Diforder 

A  SWEET  disorder  in  the  dress 
Kindles  in  clothes  a  wantonness : 
A  lawn  about  the  shoulders  thrown 
Into  a  fine  distradtion : 
An  erring  lace  which  here  and  there 
Enthrals  the  crimson  stomacher : 
A  cuff  neglecitful,  and  thereby 
Ribbons  to  flow  confusedly : 
A  winning  wave,  deserving  note. 
In  the  tempestuous  petticoat  : 
A  careless  shoe-string,  in  whose  tie 
I  see  a  wild  civility : 
Do  more  bewitch  me  than  when  art 
Is  too  precise  in  every  part. 


The  Bag  of  the  Bee 


A 


BOUT  the  sweet  bag  of  a  bee 

Two  cupids  fell  at  odds. 
And  whose  the  pretty  prize  should  be 
They  vow'd  to  ask  the  gods. 
37 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Which  Venus  hearing,  thithef  came. 
And  for  their  boldness  stripp'd  them. 

And.  taking  thence  from  each  his  flame. 
With  tods  of  myrtle  whipp'd  them. 


Which  done,  to  still  their  wanton  cries. 
When  quiet  grown  she'd  seen  them. 

She  kiss'd,  and  wip'd  their  dove-hke  eyes. 
And  gave  the  bag  between  them. 


The  Captivd  Bee^  or  the  Little 
Filcher 

As  Julia  once  a-slumbering  lay 
It  chanced  a  bee  did  fly  that  way. 
After  a  dew  or  dew-Iike  shower. 
To  tipple  freely  in  a  flower. 
For  some  rich  flower  he  took  the  lip 
Of  Julia,  and  began  to  sip ; 
But  when  he  felt  he  sucked  from  thence 
Honey,  and  in  the  quintessence. 
He  drank  so  much  he  scarce  could  stir. 
So  Julia  took  the  pilferer. 
38 


Robert  Herrick 

And  thus  surprised,  as  filchers  use. 
He  thus  began  himself  t'  excuse : 
Sweet  lady-flower,  I  never  brought 
Hither  the  least  one  thieving  thought ; 
But.  taking  those  rare  lips  of  yours 
For  some  fresh,  fragrant.  luscious  flowers. 
I  thought  I  might  there  take  a  taste. 
Where  so  much  syrup  ran  at  waste. 
Besides,  know  this :  I  never  sting 
The  flower  that  gives  me  nourishing ; 
But  with  a  kiss,  or  thanks,  do  pay 
For  honey  that  I  bear  away. 
This  said,  he  laid  his  little  scrip 
Of  honey  'fore  her  ladyship : 
And  told  her,  as  some  tears  did  fall. 
That  that  he  took,  and  that  was  all. 
At  which  she  smiled,  and  bade  him  go 
And  take  his  bag ;  but  thus  much  know : 
When  next  he  came  a-pilfering  so. 
He  should  from  her  full  lips  derive 
Honey  enough  to  fill  his  hive. 


39 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

To  the  Virgins^  to  Make  Much 
of  Time 

GATHER  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may. 
Old  time  is  stiU  a-flying  : 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  to-day 
To-morrow  will  be  dying. 

The  glorious  lamp  of  heaven,  the  son. 

The  higher  he 's  a-getting. 
The  sooner  will  his  race  be  run. 

And  nearer  he 's  to  setting. 

That  age  is  best  which  is  the  first, 
"When  youth  and  blood  are  warmer; 

But  being  spent,  the  worse,  and  worst 
Times  still  succeed  the  former. 

Then  be  not  coy.  but  use  your  time. 

And  while  ye  may  go  marry : 
For  having  lost  but  once  your  prime 

You  may  for  ever  tarry. 


40 


Robert  Herrick 
Upon  Cupid 

As  lately  I  a  garland  bound, 
'Mongst  roses  I  there  Cupid  found 
I  took  him.  put  him  in  my  cup. 
And  drunk  with  wine.  I  drank  him  up. 
Hence  then  it  is  that  my  poor  breast 
Could  never  since  find  any  rest. 


To  Meadows 

E  have  been  fresh  and  green. 

Ye  have  been  fill'd  with  flowers. 
And  ye  the  walks  have  been 
Where  maids  have  spent  their  hours. 


Y 


You  have  beheld  how  they 
With  wicker  arks  did  come 

To  kiss  and  bear  away 
The  richer  cowslips  home. 

You  've  heard  them  sweetly  sing. 
And  seen  them  in  a  round : 

Each  virgin  like  a  spring. 
With  honeysuckles  crown'd. 

4» 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

But  now  we  see  none  here 
Whose  silvery  feet  did  tread. 

And  with  dishevell'd  hair 
Adorn'd  this  smoother  mead. 

Like  unthrifts,  having  spent 
Your  stock  and  needy  grown. 

You  're  left  here  to  lament 
Your  poor  estates,  alone. 


Devotion  Makes  the  Deity 

HO  forms  a  godhead  out  of  gold  or  stone 
Makes  not  a  god,  but  he  that  prays  to  one. 


w 


F 


To  Daffodils 

AIR  daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 
You  hastf  away  so  soon ; 
As  yet  the  early-rising  sun 
Has  not  attain'd  his  noon. 
Stay,  stay. 
Until  the  hasting  day 
Has  run 

42 


Robert  Herrick 

But  to  the  evensong ; 
And,  having  prayed  together,  we 
Will  go  with  you  along. 

We  have  short  time  to  stay,  as  you. 

We  have  as  short  a  spring ; 
As  quick  a  growth  to  meet  decay. 
As  you,  or  anything. 
We  die. 
As  your  hours  do,  and  dry 

Away, 
Like  to  the  summer's  rain ; 
Or  as  the  pearls  of  morning's  dew. 
Ne'er  to  be  found  again. 


To  Daifiesy  not  to  Shut  fo  Soon 

SHUT  not  so  soon :  the  dull-ey'd  night 
Has  not  as  yet  begun 
To  make  a  seizure  on  the  light. 
Or  to  seal  up  the  sun. 

No  marigolds  yet  closed  are. 

No  shadows  great  appear; 
Nor  doth  the  early  shepherd's  star 

Shine  like  a  spangle  here. 
43 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Stay  but  till  my  Julia  close 

Her  life-begetting  eye. 
And  let  the  whole  world  then  dispose 

Itself  to  live  or  die. 


To  B/offoms 

FAIR  pledges  of  a  fruitful  tree. 
Why  do  ye  fall  so  fast? 
Your  date  is  not  so  past 
But  you  may  stay  yet  here  a  while. 
To  blush  and  gently  smile : 
And  go  at  last. 

What !  were  ye  born  to  be 
An  hour  or  half's  delight. 
And  so  to  bid  good-night  ? 

Twas  pity  Nature  brought  ye  forth 
Merely  to  show  your  worth. 
And  lose  you  quite. 

But  you  are  lovely  leaves,  where  we 
r  May  read  how  soon  things  have 
Their  end,  though  ne'er  so  brave : 
And  after  they  have  shown  their  pride 
Like  you  a  while,  they  glide 
Into  the  grave. 
44 


■ 

mfW^ 

^^^^TE^'^^HH^^H 

Hjl 

W'-l^-  ( 

^'"^1 

^^H| 

h^^   %i>^^^^^^H 

H^H 

R^-^ 

%JS'                ^!^H^^^I 

1 

pr^-^ 

lKj^?e  J^^^^^l 

1 

Pku^^^^a 

■ 

George  Herbert 
After  the  engraving  by  R.  White 


G.  Herbert 
George  Herbert  (1593-1633) 

Eafter 

1HAD  prepared  many  a  flowre 
To  straw  Thy  way  and  vicSohe ; 
But  Thou  wast  up  before  myne  houre, 
Bringinge  Thy  sweets  along  with  Thee. 

The  sunn  arising  in  the  East, 

Though  hee  bring  light  and  th'  other  scnts. 

Can  not  make  up  so  braue  a  feast. 

As  Thy  discouerie  presents. 

Yet  though  my  flours  be  lost,  they  say 
A  hart  can  never  come  too  late : 
Teach  it  to  sing  Thy  praise  this  day. 
And  then  this  day  my  life  shall  date. 


Sinne 

LORD,  with  what  care  hast  Thou  begirt  us  round  I 
Parents  first  season  us :  then  schoolmasters 
Deliver  us  to  laws :  they  send  us,  bound 
To  rules  of  reason,  holy  messengers, 

45 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Pulpits  and  Sundayes,  sorrow  dogging  sinne, 
Afflidions  sorted,  anguish  of  all  sizes. 
Fine  nets  and  stratagems  to  catch  us  in. 

Bibles  laid  open,  millions  of  surprises ; 

Blessings  beforehand,  tyes  of  gratefulnesse. 
The  sound  of  glorie  ringing  in  our  eares. 
Without,  our  shame;  within,  our  consciences; 

Angels  and  grace,  eternall  hopes  and  fears. 

Yet  all  these  fences  and  their  whole  aray 
One  cunning  bosome-sinne  blows  quite  away. 


Jordan 

WHO  says  that  fictions  onely  and  false  hair 
Become  a  verse  ?  Is  there  in  truth  no  beautic  ? 
Is  all  good  strudure  in  a  winding-stair  ? 
May  no  lines  passe,  except  they  do  their  dutie 
Not  to  a  true,  but  painted  chair  ? 

Is  it  not  verse,  except  enchanted  groves 
And  sudden  arbours  shadow  coarse-spunne  lines  ? 
Must  purling  streams  refresh  a  lover's  loves  ? 
Must  all  be  vail'd  while  he  that  reades  divines. 
Catching  the  sense  at  two  removes  ? 
46 


George  Herbert 

Shepherds  are  honest  people.  let  them  sing : 
Riddle  who  list,  for  me,  and  pull  for  prime. 
I  envie  no  man's  nightingale  or  spring ; 
Nor  let  them  punish  me  with  loss  of  rhyme. 
Who  plainly  say.  My  God,  my  King. 


Church  Mufick 

SWEETEST  of  sweets,  I  thank  you:  when  dis- 
pleasure 
Did  through  my  bodie  wound  my  minde. 
You  took  me  thence,  and  in  your  house  of  pleasure 
A  daintie  lodging  me  assign'd. 

Now  I  in  you  without  a  bodie  move. 

Rising  and  falling  with  your  wings ; 
We  both  together  sweetly  live  and  love. 

Yet  say  sometimes,  "Cod  help  poore  kings  I" 

Comfort,  I  'le  die :  for  if  you  poste  from  me. 

Sure  I  shall  do  so.  and  much  more : 
But  if  I  travell  in  your  companic. 

You  know  the  way  to  heaven's  doore. 


47 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 
The  Quidditie 

MY  Cod,  a  verse  is  not  a  cfown. 
No  point  of  honour,  or  gay  suit. 
No  hawk,  or  banquet,  or  renown. 
Nor  a  good  sword,  nor  yet  a  lute. 

It  cannot  vault,  or  dance,  or  play. 
It  never  was  in  France  or  Spain, 
Nor  can  it  entertain  the  day 
With  a  great  stable  or  demain. 

It  is  no  office,  art,  or  news. 

Nor  the  Exchange,  or  busie  hall : 

But  it  is  that  which,  while  I  use. 

I  am  with  Thee:  and  "MOST  TAKE  ALL. 


Avarice 

MONEY,  thou  bane  of  blisse  and  source  of  wo. 
Whence  com'st  thou,  that  thou  art  so  fresh 
and  fine  ? 
I  know  thy  parentage  is  base  and  low,  — 
Man  found  thee  poore  and  dirtie  in  a  mine. 
48 


George  Herbert 

Sufely  thou  didst  so  little  contribute 

To  this  great  kingdome  which  thou  now  hast  got. 

That  he  was  fain,  when  thou  wert  destitute. 
To  digge  thee  out  of  thy  dark  cave  and  grot. 

Then  forcing  thee,  by  fire  he  made  thee  bright : 
Nay,  thou  hast  got  the  face  of  man :  for  we 
Have  with  our  stamp  and  seal  transferred  our  right ; 

Thou  art  the  man.  and  man  but  drosse  to  thee. 

Man  calleth  thee  his  wealth,  who  made  thee  rich ; 
And  while  he  digs  out  thee,  falls  in  the  ditch. 


The  World 

LOVE  built  a  stately  house,  where  Fortune  came : 
And  spinning  phansies,  she  was  heard  to  say 
That  her  fine  cobwebs  did  support  the  frame. 
Whereas  they  were  supported  by  the  same ; 
But  Wisdome  quickly  swept  them  all  away. 

Then  Pleasure  came.  who.  liking  not  the  fashion. 

Began  to  make  balcones.  terraces. 

Till  she  had  weaken'd  all  by  alteration : 

But  rev'rend  laws,  and  many  a  proclamation. 

Reformed  all  at  length  with  menaces. 

49 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Then  entef'd  Sinne,  and  with  that  sycamore 

Whose  leaves  first  sheltred  man  from  drought  and  dew. 

Working  and  winding  slily  evermore. 

The  inward  walls  and  sommers  *  cleft  and  tore ;    »  Mafn 

But  Grace  shor'd  these,  and  cut  that  as  it  grew,    beams. 


Then  Sinne  comfein'd  with  Death  in  a  firm  Band 
To  rase  the  building  to  the  very  floore : 
Which  they  effeded.  none  could  them  withstand ; 
But  Love  took  Grace  and  Glorie  hy  the  hand» 
And  built  a  braver  palace  then  before. 


The  Ouip 

THE  merrie  World  did  on  a  day 
With  his  train-bands  and  mates  agree 
To  meet  together  where  I  lay. 
And  all  in  sport  to  geere  at  me. 

First  Beautie  crept  into  a  rose. 
Which  when  I  pluckt  not.  "Sir."  said  she, 
"Tell  me,  I  pray,  whose  hands  are  those?" 
But  Thou  shalt  answer.  Lord,  for  me. 

50 


George  Herbert 

Then  Money  came,  and  chinking  still, 
-'What tune  is  this,  poofe  man?"  said  he; 
"I  heard  in  Musick  you  had  skill:" 
But  Thou  shalt  answer.  Lord,  for  me. 

Then  came  brave  Clorie  puffing  by 
In  silks  that  whistled,  who  but  he  ! 
He  scarce  allowed  me  half  an  eic : 
But  Thou  shalt  answer.  Lord,  for  me. 

Then  came  quick  Wit  and  Conversation 
And  he  would  needs  a  comfort  be. 
And,  to  be  short,  make  an  oration : 
But  Thou  shalt  answer.  Lord,  for  me. 

Yet  when  the  houre  of  Thy  designe 
To  answer  these  fine  things  shall  come. 
Speak  not  at  large,  say,  I  am  Thine, 
And  then  they  have  their  answer  home. 


L 


Love 

OVE  bade  me  welcome ;  yet  my  soul  drew  back. 

Guilty  of  dust  and  sin. 
But  quick-ey'd  Love,  observing  me  grow  slack 

51 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

From  my  first  entrance  in. 
Drew  nearer  to  me,  sweetly  questioning 
If  I  lack'd  any  thing. 

"A  guest,"  I  answered,  "worthy  to  be  here:" 

Love  said,  "You  shall  be  he." 
"  I,  the  unkind,  ungrateful  ?  Ah,  my  dear. 

I  cannot  look  on  Thee." 
Love  took  my  hand,  and  smiling  did  reply. 

"Who  made  the  eyes  but  I ?" 

"  Truth,  Lord :  but  I  have  marr'd  them ;  let  my  shame 

Co  where  it  doth  deserve." 
"And  know  you  not,"  says  Love,  "Who  bore  the 
blame?" 

"My  dear,  then  I  will  serve." 
"You  must  sit  down."  says  Love,  "and  taste  My  meat." 

So  I  did  sit  and  eat. 


Thomas  Carew  (1598-1638) 
Ingrateful  Beauty  Threatened 


K 


NOW.  CeUa.  since  thou  art  so  proud. 

'Twas  I  that  gave  thee  thy  renown. 
Thou  had'st  in  the  forgotten  crowd 

52 


Thomas  Carew 
After  the  painting  by  Sir  Anthony  Van  Dyck 


Thomas  Carew 

Of  common  Beauties  lived  unknown. 
Had  not  my  verse  extoll'd  thy  name. 
And  with  it  ympt*  the  wings  of  Fame. 

That  killing  power  is  none  of  thine: 
I  gave  it  to  thy  voice  and  eyes; 

Thy  sweets,  thy  graces,  all  are  mine; 
Thou  art  my  Star,  shin'st  in  my  skies: 

Then  dart  not  from  thy  borrow'd  sphere 

Lightning  on  him  that  fix'd  thee  there. 

Tempt  me  with  such  affrights  no  more. 

Lest  what  I  made  I  uncreate : 
Let  fools  thy  mystic  forms  adore, 

I  know  thee  in  thy  Mortal  state. 
Wise  poets  that  wrapt  Truth  in  tales. 
Knew  her  themselves  through  all  her  veils. 


H 


Difdain  I^eiurned 

'E  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek. 
Or  a  coral  lip  admires. 
Or,  from  star-like  eyes,  doth  seek 
Fuel  to  maintain  his  fires; 
As  old  Time  makes  these  decay. 
So  his  flames  must  waste  away. 

•  This  phrase  is  borrowed  from  Falconry.  To  ymp  is  to  add 
a  new  piece  to  a  broken  feather  in  tail  or  wing. 
53 


Thomas  Carew 
After  the  painting  by  Sir  Anthony  Van  Dyck 


Thomas  Carew 

Of  common  Beauties  lived  unknown. 
Had  not  my  verse  extoli'd  thy  name. 
And  with  it  ympt*  the  wings  of  Fame. 

That  killing  power  is  none  of  thine: 
I  gave  it  to  thy  voice  and  eyes; 

Thy  sweets,  thy  graces,  all  are  mine; 
Thou  art  my  Star,  shin'st  in  my  skies: 

Then  dart  not  from  thy  borrow'd  sphere 

Lightning  on  him  that  fix'd  thee  there. 

Tempt  me  with  such  affrights  no  more. 

Lest  what  I  made  I  uncreate ; 
Let  fools  thy  mystic  forms  adore, 

I  know  thee  in  thy  Mortal  state. 
Wise  poets  that  wrapt  Truth  in  tales. 
Knew  her  themselves  through  all  her  veils. 


H 


Difdain  Returned 

E  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek. 
Or  a  coral  lip  admires. 
Or.  from  star-like  eyes,  doth  seek 
Fuel  to  maintain  his  fires; 
As  old  Time  makes  these  decay. 
So  his  flames  must  waste  away. 

•  This  phrase  is  borrowed  from  Falconry.  To  ymp  is  to  add 
a  new  piece  to  a  broken  feather  in  tail  or  wing, 
53 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

But  a  smooth  and  steadfast  mind/ 
Gentle  thoughts  and  calm  desires. 

Hearts  with  equal  love  combined. 
Kindle  never-dying  fires. 

Where  these  are  not,  I  despise 

Lovely  cheeks,  or  lips,  or  eyes. 

No  tears,  Celia.  now  shall  win 
My  resolved  heart  to  return ; 

I  have  search'd  thy  soul  within. 

And  find  nought  but  pride  and  scorn. 

I  have  learn'd  thy  arts,  and  now 

Can  disdain  as  much  as  thou. 

Some  Power  in  my  revenge  convey 
That  Love  to  hef  I  cast  away. 


On  Celia  Singing  to  her  Lute^ 
in  Arundel  Garden 

HARK,  how  my  Qelm.  with  the  choice 
Music  of  her  hand  and  voice. 
Stills  the  loud  wind,  and  makes  the  wild 
Enraged  boar  and  panther  mild. 
Mark  how  those  statues  like  men  move, 

54 


Thomas  Carew 

While  men  with  wonder  statues  prove. 
The  stiff  rock  bends  to  worship  her : 
The  Idol  turns  idolater. 

Now,  see  how  all  the  new  inspired 
Images  with  love  are  fired ! 
Hark  how  the  tender  marble  groans. 
And  all  the  late  transformed  stones 
Court  the  fair  Nymph,  with  many  a  tear. 
Which  she — more  stony  than  they  wctc- 
Beholds  with  unrelenting  mind ; 
When  they,  amazed  to  see  combined 
Such  matchless  beauty  with  disdain. 
Are  all  turn'd  into  stone  again. 


A/k  Me  no  more  where  Jove 
Be/tows 

ASK  me  no  more,  where  Joce  bestows. 
When  June  is  past,  the  fading  rose  ? 
For  in  your  Beauty's  orient  deep 
These  flowers,  as  in  their  causes,  sleep. 

Ask  me  no  more,  whither  do  stray 
The  golden  atoms  of  the  day  ? 
For  in  pure  love  heaven  did  prepare 
Those  powders  to  enrich  your  hair. 
55 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Ask  me  no  more,  whither  doth  haste 
The  Nightingale,  when  May  is  past  ? 
For  in  your  sweet  dividing  throat 
She  winters  and  keeps  warm  her  note. 

Ask  me  no  more,  where  those  stars  'light. 
That  downwards  fall  in  dead  of  night  ? 
For  in  your  eyes  they  sit,  and  there 
Fixed  become,  as  in  their  sphere. 

Ask  me  no  more,  if  east  or  west 
The  Phoenix  builds  her  spicy  nest  ? 
For  unto  you  at  last  she  flies. 
And  in  your  fragrant  bosom  dies. 


The  Hue  and  Cry 

IN  Love's  name  you  are  charged  hereby 
To  make  a  speedy  "Hue  and  Cry" 
After  a  face,  which  t'other  day. 
Stole  my  wand'ring  heart  away. 
To  dired  you,  these,  in  brief. 
Are  ready  marks  to  know  the  Thief. 

Her  hair  a  net  of  beams  would  prove 
Strong  enough  to  captive  /ooe. 
In  his  Eagle's  shape :  her  brow 
56 


Thomas  Carew 

Is  a  comely  field  of  snow ; 

Her  eye  so  rich,  so  pure  a  grey. 

Every  beam  creates  a  day : 

And,  if  she  but  sleep  (not  when 
The  sun  sets),  'tis  Night  again. 

In  her  cheeks  are  to  be  seen 

Of  flowers  both  the  King  and  Queen, 

Thither  by  the  Graces  led. 

And  freshly  laid  in  nuptial  bed ; 

On  whose  lips.  like-Nymphs  do  wait. 

Who  deplore  their  virgin  state : 
Oft  they  blush,  and  blush  for  this. 
That  they  one  another  kiss. 

But  observe,  besides  the  rest. 
You  shall  know  this  Felon  best 
By  her  tongue ;  for  if  your  ear 
Once  a  heavenly  music  hear. 
Such  as  neither  gods  nor  men  — 
But  from  that  voice  —  shall  hear  again. 
That,  that  is  she.  O !  straight  surprise. 
And  bring  her  unto  Love's  Assize. 
If  you  let  her  go.  she  may 
Ante-date  the  Latter  Day. 

Fate  and  Philosophy  controul. 
And  leave  the  world  without  a  soul. 
57 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

The    Tooth-ache    Cured  by  a 
Kifs 

FATE 'S  now  grown  merciful  to  men. 
Turning  disease  to  bliss ; 
For  had  not  kind  rheum  vext  me,  then, 

I  might  not  Ceha  kiss. 
Physicians,  you  are  now  my  scorn. 

For  I  have  found  a  way 
To  cure  diseases — when  forlorn 

By  your  dull  art  —  which  may 
Patch  up  a  body  for  a  time : 

But  can  restore  to  health 
No  more  than  'chymists  can  sublime 

True  Gold,  the  Indies'  wealth. 
That  Angel  sure,  that  used  to  move 

The  Pool*  men  so  admired,  *Bethesda. 

Hath  to  her  lip,  the  seat  of  Love, 

As  to  his  heaven,  retired. 


58 


Thomas  Carew 
On  his  Miftrefs  Going  to  Sea 

FAREWELL,  fair  Saint !  may  not  the  sea  and  wind 
Swell  like  the  hearts  and  eyes  you  leave  behind ; 
But  calm  and  gentle,  as  the  looks  you  bear. 
Smile  in  your  face,  and  whisper  in  your  ear. 

Let  no  bold  billow  offer  to  arise. 
That  it  may  nearer  gaze  upon  your  eyes : 
Lest  wind  and  wave,  enamour'd  of  your  form. 
Should  throng  and  crowd  themselves  into  a  storm. 

But  if  it  be  your  fate,  vast  Seas !  to  love. 
Of  my  becalmed  breast  learn  how  to  move: 
Move  then,  but  in  a  gentle  Lover's  pace : 
No  wrinkle,  nor  no  furrow,  in  your  face. 

And  you.  fierce  Winds,  see  that  you  tell  your  tale 
In  such  a  breath  as  may  but  fill  her  Sail : 
So.  whilst  you  court  her.  each  your  several  way. 
You  may  her  safely  to  her  Port  convey. 

And  loose  her,  by  the  noblest  way  of  Wooing : 
Whilst  both  contribute  to  your  own  undoing. 


59 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Eternitij's  Song 

BE  fixed,  you  rapid  Orbs,  that  bear 
The  changing  seasons  of  the  year 
On  your  swift  wings,  and  see  the  old 
Decrepit  Sphere  grown  dark  and  cold : 
Nor  did  ]otz  quench  her  fires :  these  bright 
Flames  have  eclipsed  her  sullen  light : 
This  Royal  Pair,  for  whom  Fate  will 
Make  Motion  cease,  and  Time  stand  still : 
Since  Good  is  here  so  perfeclt,  as  no  Worth 
Is  left  for  After-Ages  to  bring  forth. 

from  Ccclura  Britannicum,  A  Masque. 

Sir  I(ichard  Fanfhawe  (1607-1666) 
Of  Beauty 

LET  us  use  it  while  we  may 
Snatch  those  joys  that  haste  away  I 
Earth  her  winter  coat  may  cast. 
And  renew  her  beauty  past : 
But.  our  winter  come,  in  vain 
We  solicit  Spring  again ; 
And  when  our  furrows  snow  shall  cover 
Love  may  return,  but  never  lover. 
60 


Sir  John  Suckling 

From  the  engraving  by  George  Vertue 

after  the  painting  by  Sir  Anthony  Van  Dyck 


Sir  J.  Suckling 

Sir  John  Suckling  (1609-1641) 

Ballad  upon  a  Wedding 

(Written  upon  the  occasion  of  the  marriage  of 
Roger  Boyle,  ist  Earl  of  Orrery  with  Lady  Mar- 
garet Howard,  daughter  of  Theophilus,  Earl  of 
Suffolk.) 

1TELL  thee,  Dick,  where  I  have  been. 
Where  I  the  rarest  things  have  seen ; 
O.  things  without  compare  ! 
Such  sights  again  cannot  be  found 
In  any  place  on  English  ground. 
Be  it  at  wake  or  fair. 

At  Charing  Cross,  hard  by  the  way. 
Where  we  (thou  know'st)  do  sell  our  hay. 

There  is  a  house  with  stairs; 
And  there  did  I  see  coming  down 
Such  folks  as  are  not  in  our  town, 
^        Forty,  at  least,  in  pairs. 

Amongst  the  rest,  one  pest'lent  fine 
(His  beard  no  bigger  though  than  Thine) 
Walked  on  before  the  rest : 
61 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Our  landlord  looks  like  nothing  to  him : 
The  King  (God  bless  him)  'twould  undo  him. 
Should  he  go  still  so  drest. 

At  Coufse-a-Park,  without  all  doubt. 
He  should  have  first  been  taken  out 

By  all  the  maids  i'  th'  town : 
Though  lusty  Roger  there  had  been. 
Or  little  George  upon  the  Green, 

Or  Vincent  of  the  Crown. 

But, wot  you  what?  the  youth  was  going 
To  make  an  end  of  all  his  wooing ; 

The  parson  for  him  stay'd : 
Yet  by  his  leave  (for  all  his  haste) 
He  did  not  so  much  wish  all  past 

(Perchance)  as  did  the  maid. 

The  maid  (and  thereby  hangs  a  tale. 
For  such  a  maid  not  Whitsun-ale 

Could  ever  yet  produce) 
No  grape,  that 's  kindly  ripe,  could  be 
So  round,  so  plump,  so  soft  as  she. 

Nor  half  so  full  of  juice. 

Her  finger  was  so  small,  the  ring 
Would  not  stay  on,  which  they  did  bring. 
It  was  too  wide  a  peck : 
62 


Sir  John  Suckling 

And  to  say  truth  (for  out  it  must) 

It  looked  like  the  great  collar  (just) 

About  our  young  colt's  neck. 

Her  feet  beneath  her  petticoat. 
Like  little  mice,  stole  in  and  out. 

As  if  they  fear'd  the  light : 
But  O  she  dances  such  a  way ! 
No  sun  upon  an  Easter  day 

Is  half  so  fine  a  sight. 

He  would  have  kissed  her  once  or  twice 
But  she  would  not,  she  was  so  nice. 

She  would  not  do 't  in  sight. 
And  then  she  looked  as  who  should  say : 
I  will  do  what  I  list  to-day. 

And  you  shall  do't  at  night. 

Her  cheeks  so  rare  a  white  was  on. 
No  daisy  makes  comparison 

(Who  sees  them  is  undone). 
For  streaks  of  red  were  mingled  there. 
Such  as  are  on  a  Cath'rine  pear 

(The  side  that 's  next  the  sun). 

Her  lips  were  red,  and  one  was  thin. 
Compared  to  that  was  next  her  chin 
(Some  bee  had  stung  it  newly) ; 
63 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

But.  Dick,  her  eyes  so  guard  her  face ; 
I  durst  no  more  upon  them  gaze 
Than  on  the  sun  in  July. 


Her  mouth  so  small,  when  she  does  speak. 
Thou  'dst  swear  her  teeth  her  words  did  break. 

That  they  might  passage  get ; 
But  she  so  handled  still  the  matter. 
They  came  as  good  as  ours,  or  better. 

And  are  not  spent  a  whit. 

*^         ^         ^         o^         .^         o^         a^, 
^         ^         ^         ^         ^         ^         ^ 

Passion  o'  me.  how  I  run  on ! 

There's  that  that  would  be  thought  upon 

(I  trow)  besides  the  bride ; 
The  business  of  the  kitchen's  great. 
For  it  is  fit  that  man  should  cat : 

Nor  was  it  there  denied : 

Just  in  the  nick  the  cook  knocked  thrice. 
And  all  the  waiters  in  a  trice 

His  summons  did  obey; 
Each  serving-man.  with  dish  in  hand. 
Marched  boldly  up.  like  our  trained  band. 

Presented,  and  away. 
64 


Sir  John  Suckling 

When  all  the  meat  was  on  the  tabic. 
What  man  of  knife  or  teeth  was  able 

To  stay  to  be  intreated  ? 
And  this  the  very  reason  was. 
Before  the  parson  could  say  grace. 

The  company  was  seated. 


Now  hats  fly  off.  and  youths  carouse ; 
Healths  first  go  round,  and  then  the  house. 

The  bride's  came  thick  and  thick : 
And  when  'twas  nam'd  another's  health. 
Perhaps  he  made  it  hers  by  stealth : 

And  who  could  help  it.  Dick  ? 


On  the  sudden  up  they  rise  and  dance ; 
Then  sit  again  and  sigh,  and  glance : 

Then  dance  again  and  kiss : 
Thus  several  ways  the  time  did  pass. 
Whilst  ev'ry  woman  wished  her  place. 

And  every  man  wished  his. 


By  this  time  all  were  stol'n  aside 

To  counsel  and  undress  the  bride : 

But  that  he  must  not  know : 

65 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

But  yet  'twas  thought  he  guess'd  her  mind. 
And  did  not  mean  to  stay  behmd 
Above  an  hour  or  so. 

*^         ^  ^          ^         ^          ^          ^ 

"W  IT*  'ff'  "T^  -l^  ^n^  ■^ 

Note.  "  TA/s  ballad  may  safely  be  pronounced  his  Opus 
Magnum;  indeed,  for  grace  and  simplicity  it  stands  un- 
rivalled in  the  whole  compass  of  ancient  and  modern 
poetry."  —  William  Wordsworth. 


A  Supplement  of  an  Imperfedl  copy  of  Verses 
of  Mr.  William  Shakespeare's 

ONE  of  her  hands  one  of  her  cheeks  lay  under. 
Cozening  the  pillow  of  a  lawful  kiss. 
Which  therefore  swelled,  and  seemed  to  part 
asunder. 
As  angry  to  be  robbed  of  such  a  bliss ! 
The  one  looked  pale  and  for  revenge  did  long. 
While  t'  other  blushed,  'cause  it  had  done  the  wrong. 

Out  of  the  bed  the  other  fair  hand  was 
On  a  green  satin  quilt,  whose  perfedt  white 
Looked  like  a  daisy  in  a  field  of  grass."* 
And  showed  like  unmelt  snow  unto  the  sight; 
There  lay  this  pretty  perdue,  safe  to  keep 
The  rest  o'  th'  body  that  lay  fast  asleep. 

*  Thus  far  Shakespeare. 

66 


Sir  John  Suckling 

Her  eyes  (and  therefore  it  was  night),  close  laid. 

Strove  to  imprison  beauty  till  the  morn : 

But  yet  the  doors  were  of  such  fine  stuff  made. 

That  it  broke  through,  and  showed  itself  in  scorn. 

Throwing  a  kind  of  light  about  the  place ; 

Which  turned  to  smiles  still,  as  't  came  near  her  face. 

Her  beams,  which  some  dull  men  called  hair,  divided. 
Part  with  her  cheeks,  part  with  her  lips  did  sport. 
But  these,  as  rude,  her  breath  put  by  still ;  some 
Wiselier  downward  sought,  but  falling  short. 
Curled  back  in  rings,  and  seemed  to  turn  again 
To  bite  the  part  unkindly  held  them  m. 


DOST  see  how  unregarded  now 
That  piece  of  beauty  passes  ? 
There  was  a  time  when  I  did  vow 
To  that  alone : 
But  mark  the  fate  of  faces: 
The  red  and  white  works  now  no  more  on  me. 
Than  if  it  could  not  charm,  or  I  not  see. 

And  yet  the  face  continues  good. 

And  still  I  have  desires. 
And  still  the  self -same  flesh  and  blood. 
As  apt  to  melt. 

67 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

And  suffer  from  those  fires : 
O,  some  kind  power  unriddle  where  it  lies ; 
Whether  my  heart  be  faulty,  or  her  eyes  ? 


She  every  day  her  man  doth  kill. 

And  I  as  often  die : 
Neither  her  power  then  nor  my  will 

Can  questioned  be : 
What  is  the  mystery  ? 
Sure,  beauty's  empires,  like  to  greater  states. 
Have  certain  periods  set,  and  hidden  fates. 


The  Metamorphofis 

THE  little  boy,  to  show  his  might  and  power, 
Turn'd  lo  to  a  cow.  Narcissus  to  a  flower ; 
Transformed  Apollo  to  a  homely  swain. 
And  Jove  himself  into  a  golden  rain. 
These  shapes  were  tolerable,  but  by  the  Mass 
He 's  metamorphosed  me  into  an  Ass ! 


68 


Sir  John  Suckling 
The  Falfe  One 

HAST  thou  seen  the  down  in  the  air 
When  wanton  blasts  have  tossed  it  ? 
Or  the  ship  on  the  sea. 
When  ruder  winds  have  crossed  it  ? 
Hast  thou  marked  the  crocodile's  weeping. 

Or  the  fox's  sleeping  ? 
Or  hast  viewed  the  peacock  in  his  pride. 

Or  the  dove  by  his  bride. 
When  he  courts  for  his  lechery  ? 
O.  so  fickle,  O,  so  vain,  O,  so  false,  so  false  is  she ! 

fTom  The  Sad  One. 


A  Soldier 

1AM  a  man  of  war  and  might. 
And  know  thus  much,  that  I  can  fight. 
Whether  I  am  i'  th'  wrong  or  right. 
Devoutly. 
No  woman  under  heaven  I  fear. 
New  oaths  I  can  exadly  swear. 
And  forty  healths  my  brain  will  bear 
Most  stoutly. 
69 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

I  cannot  speak,  but  I  can  do 
As  much  as  any  of  our  crew ; 
And  if  you  doubt  it.  some  of  you 

May  prove  me. 
I  dare  be  bold  thus  much  to  say. 
If  that  my  bullets  do  but  play. 
You  would  be  hurt  so  night  and  day. 

Yet  love  me. 


Or/ames'  Song 

WHY  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover? 
Prithee,  why  so  pale  ? 
Will,  when  looking  well  can't  move  her. 
Looking  ill  prevail  ? 
Prithee,  why  so  pale? 

Why  so  mute  and  dumb,  young  sinner  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute  ? 
Will,  when  speaking  well  can't  win  her. 

Saying  nothing  do 't  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute  ? 


70 


Sir  John  Suckling 

Quit,  quit,  for  shame,  this  will  not  move ; 

This  cannot  take  her. 
If  of  herself  she  will  not  love. 

Nothing  can  make  her  : 

The  devil  take  her ! 


The  ConJIant  Lover 

OUT  upon  it!  I  have  loved 
Three  whole  days  together : 
And  am  like  to  love  three  more. 
If  it  prove  fine  weather. 

Time  shall  moult  away  his  wings. 
Ere  he  shall  discover 
In  the  whole  wide  world  again 
Such  a  constant  lover. 

But  the  spite  on  *t  is,  no  praise 
Is  due  at  all  to  me : 
Love  with  me  had  made  no  stays. 
Had  It  any  been  but  she. 

Had  It  any  been  but  she. 
And  that  very  face. 
There  had  been  at  least,  ere  this, 
A  dozen  in  her  place  I 
71 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

I  PRITHEE  send  me  back  my  heart. 
Since  I  cannot  have  thine  : 
For  if  from  yours  you  will  not  part. 
Why  then  shouldst  thou  have  mine  ? 


Yet  now  I  think  on  *t.  let  it  lie. 
To  find  it,  were  in  vain. 
For  th'  hast  a  thief  in  either  eye 
Would  steal  it  back  again. 

Why  should  two  hearts  in  one  breast  lie. 
And  yet  not  lodge  together  ? 

0  love !  where  is  thy  sympathy. 
If  thus  our  breasts  you  sever  ? 

But  love  is  such  a  mystery, 

1  cannot  find  it  out: 

For  when  I  think  I  'm  best  resolv'd, 
I  then  am  most  in  doubt. 

Then  farewell  care,  and  farewell  woe, 
I  will  no  longer  pine  : 
For  I  '11  believe  1  have  her  heart. 
As  much  as  she  has  mine. 


7^ 


Sir  John  Suckling 
Love  and  Debt 

THERE 'S  one  request  I  make  to  Him, 
Who  sits  the  clouds  above : 
That  I  were  fairly  out  of  debt. 
As  I  am  out  of  love. 


Then  for  to  dance,  to  drink,  to  sing 
I  should  be  very  willing ; 
I  should  not  owe  one  lass  a  kiss. 
Nor  any  rogue  a  shilling. 

'Tis  only  being  in  love  or  debt. 
That  robs  us  of  our  rest. 
And  he  that  is  quite  out  of  both. 
Of  all  the  world  is  blest. 


He  sees  the  golden  age,  wherein 
All  things  were  free  and  common; 
He  eats,  he  drinks,  he  takes  his  rest- 
And  fears  nor  man  nor  woman. 


73 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

William  Cartwright  (1611-1643) 

Lefbia  on  her  Sparrow 

TELL  me  not  of  joy !  there 's  none. 
Now  my  little  sparrow's  gone : 
He,  just  as  you. 
Would  sigh  and  woo. 
He  would  chirp  and  flatter  me ; 
He  would  hang  the  wing  a  while. 
Till  at  length  he  saw  me  smile. 
Lord  I  how  sullen  he  would  be ! 

He  would  catch  a  crumb,  and  then 
Sporting  let  it  go  again : 

He  from  my  lip 

"Would  moisture  sip. 
He  would  from  my  trencher  feed ; 

Then  would  hop.  and  then  would  run. 

And  cry  Phillip  when  he'd  done; 
Oh !  whose  heart  can  choose  but  bleed  ? 

Oh !  how  eager  would  he  fight. 
And  ne'er  hurt  though  he  did  bite. 
No  morn  did  pass, 
74 


William  Cartwright 

But  on  my  glass 

He  would  sit,  and  mark,  and  do 
What  I  did ;  now  ruffle  all 
His  feathers  o'er,  now  let  them  fall. 

And  then  straightway  sleek  them  too. 

Whence  will  Cupid  get  his  darts 
Feather'd  now,  to  pierce  our  hearts  ? 

A  wound  he  may. 

Not  love,  convey. 
Now  this  faithful  bird  is  gone. 

Oh !  let  mournful  turtles  join 

With  loving  redbreasts,  and  combine 
To  sing  dirges  o'er  his  stone. 


To  Chloe 

Who  wished  herself  young  enough  for  me. 

CHLOE,  why  wish  you  that  your  years 
Would  backwards  run.  till  they  meet  mine  ? 
That  perfed  likeness,  which  endears 
Things  unto  things,  might  us  combine. 
Our  ages  so  in  date  agree. 
That  twins  do  differ  more  than  we. 

75 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

There  are  two  births,  the  one  when  light 
First  strikes  the  new  awakened  sense ; 

The  other  when  two  souls  unite : 

And  we  must  count  our  life  from  thence : 

When  you  lov'd  me.  and  I  lov'd  you. 

Then  both  of  us  were  born  anew. 

Love  then  to  us  did  new  souls  give. 

And  m  those  souls  did  plant  new  pow'rs : 

Since  when  another  life  we  live. 
The  breath  is  his,  not  ours ; 

Love  makes  those  young  whom  age  doth  chill. 

And  whom  he  finds  young  keeps  young  still. 

Love,  like  that  angel  that  shall  call 
Our  bodies  from  the  silent  grave. 

Unto  one  age  doth  raise  us  all : 

None  too  much,  none  ioo  little  have : 

Nay.  that  the  difference  may  be  none. 

He  makes  two  not  alike,  but  one. 

And  now  since  you  and  I  are  such. 

Tell  me  what 's  yours,  and  what  is  mine  ? 

Our  eyes,  our  ears,  our  taste,  smell,  touch. 
Do,  like  our  souls,  in  one  combine ; 

So,  by  this,  I  as  well  may  be 

Too  old  for  you,  as  you  for  me. 
76 


Francis  Cluarles 
From  the  engraving  by  I.  Wright 


F.  Quarles 


Francis  O^ciTles  (1592-1664) 
Song  of  Anarchuf 

KNOW  then,  my  brethren,  heaven  is  clear. 
And  all  the  clouds  are  gone; 
The  righteous  now  shall  flourish,  and 
Good  days  are  coming  on : 
Come  then,  my  brethren,  and  be  glad. 
And  eke  rejoice  with  me ; 
Lawn  sleeves  and  rochets  shall  go  down. 
And  hey !  then  up  go  we ! 

We  '11  break  the  windows  which  the  whofe 

Of  Babylon  hath  painted. 

And  when  the  popish  saints  are  down. 

Then  Barrow  shall  be  sainted. 

There 's  neither  cross  nor  crucifix 

Shall  stand  for  men  to  see ; 

Rome's  trash  and  trumperies  shall  go  down. 

And  hey !  then  op  go  we  I 

'jv  'n^  '7r  ^^  ^^  ^^  ^^ 

We'll  down  with  all  the  'VarsHies. 
Where  learning  is  profess'd. 
Because  they  pradice  and  maintain 
77 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

The  language  of  the  beast. 

We  '11  drive  the  doctors  out  of  doors. 

And  arts,  -what e'er  they  be; 

We  'II  cry  both  arts  and  learning  down. 

And  hey !  then  up  go  we ! 

#^  ^  4fe^  ^  ^  ^  jUf. 

^  ^  ^  ^  ^  w^  ^ 

If  once  that  Anti-christian  crew 

Be  crush'd  and  overthrown. 

We  'II  teach  the  nobles  how  to  crouch. 

And  keep  the  gentry  down. 

Good  manners  have  an  ill  report. 

And  turn  to  pride  we  see ; 

We  'II  therefore  cry  good  manners  down. 

And  hey  !  then  up  go  we  I 

The  name  of  lord  shall  be  abhorr'd. 

For  every  man's  a  brother ; 

No  reason  why,  in  church,  of  state. 

One  man  should  rule  another. 

But  when  the  change  of  government 

Shall  set  our  fingers  free. 

We  'II  make  the  wanton  sisters  stoop. 

And  hey !  then  up  go  we  I 

Our  cobblers  shall  translate  their  souls 
From  caves  obscure  and  shady : 

We'll  make  Tom  T as  good  as  my  lofd, 

78 


Francis  Quarles 

And  Joan  as  good  as  my  lady. 

We  'II  crush  and  fling  the  marriage  ring 

Into  the  Roman  see; 

We  'II  ask  no  bands,  but  e'en  clap  hands. 

And  hey !  then  op  go  we ! 

From  Shepherd's  Oracles. 


WHAT,  Cupid,  are  thy  shafts  already  made  ? 
And  seeking  honey  to  set  up  thy  trade. 
True  emblem  of  thy  sweets !  thy  bees  do  bring 
Honey  in  their  mouths,  but  in  their  tails  a  sting. 

Epigram  No.  3,  Book  i. 


Non  omne  quod  hie  micataurum  eft 

FALSE  world,  thou  ly'st ;  thou  canst  not  lend 
The  least  delight : 
Thy  favours  cannot  gam  a  friend. 
They  are  so  slight : 
Thy  morning  pleasures  make  an  end 

To  please  at  night : 
Poor  are  the  wants  that  thou  supply'st ; 
And  yet  thou  vaunt'st,  and  yet  thou  vy'st 
With  Heaven ;  fond  earth,  thou  boast'st.  false  world, 
thou  ly'st. 

79 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

Thy  babbling  tongue  tells  golden  tales 

Of  endless  treasure : 
Thy  bounty  offers  easy  sales 

Of  lasting  pleasure ; 
Thou  ask'st  the  conscience  what  she  aib. 

And  swear'st  to  ease  her : 
There 's  none  can  want  where  thou  supply'st. 
There 's  none  can  give  where  thou  deny'st, 
Alas !  fond  world,  thou  boast *st ;  false  world,  thou  ly'st. 

What  well  advised  ear  regards 

What  Earth  can  say  ? 
Thy  words  are  gold,  but  thy  rewards 

Are  painted  clay : 
Thy  cunning  can  but  pack  the  cards. 

Thou  canst  not  play : 
Thy  game  at  weakest  still  thou  vy'st; 
If  seen,  and  then  revy'd.  deny'st : 
Thou  art  not  what  thou  seem'st ;  false  world,  thou  ly'st. 

Thy  tinsel  bosom  seems  a  mint 

Of  new-coin'd  treasure : 
A  paradise  that  has  no  stint. 

No  change,  no  measure : 
A  painted  cask,  but  nothing  in 't 

Nor  wealth  nor  pleasure : 
80 


Francis  Quarks 

Vain  earth  f  that  falsely  thus  comply 'st 
With  man ;  vain  man,  that  thou  rely'st 
On  earth ;  vain  man,  thou  doat'st ;  vain  earth,  thou  ly'st. 


What  mean  dull  souls,  in  this  high  measure 

To  haberdash 
In  earth's  base  wares,  whose  greatest  treasure 

Is  dross  and  trash  ? 
The  height  of  whose  enchanting  pleasure 

Is  but  a  flash  ? 
Are  these  the  goods  that  thou  supply 'st' 
Us  mortals  with  ?  Are  these  the  high'st  ? 
Can  these  bring  cordial  peace  ?  False  world,  thou  ly'st. 
From  Emblems,  Divine  and  Moral. 


MY  heart !  but  wherefore  do  I  call  thee  so  ? 
I  have  renounc'd  my  mt'rest  long  ago : 
When  thou  wert  false  and  fleshly,  I  was  thine ; 
Mine  wert  thou  never,  till  thou  wert  not  mine. 

Epigram  No.  15,  Book.  3. 


81 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

LOOK  not,  my  watch,  being  once  repair'd,  to  stand 
Expecting  motion  from  thy  Maker's  hand. 
He  *s  -wound  thee  up,  and  deans'd  thy  clogs  with 
blood : 
If  now  thy  wheels  stand  still,  thou  art  not  good. 

Epigram  No.  8.  Book  i(. 


Sic  decipit  orbis 

BELIEVE  her  not.  her  glass  diffuses 
False  portraitures:  thou  canst  espy 
No  true  reflection :  she  abuses 
Her  misinform'd  beholder's  eye : 
Her  crystal's  falsely  steel'd :  it  scatters 
Deceitful  beams :  believe  her  not,  she  flatters. 


This  flaring  mirror  represents 

No  right  proportion,  view  or  feature  : 

Her  very  looks  are  compliments : 

They  make  thee  fairer,  goodlier,  greater: 

The  skilful  gloss  of  her  rcfledion 

But  paints  the  context  of  thy  coarse  complexion. 


8^ 


Francis  Quarles 

Were  thy  dimension  but  a  stride. 
Nay,  weft  thou  statur'd  but  a  span. 
Such  as  the  long-bill 'd  troops  defied, 
A  very  fragment  of  a  man ! 
She'll  make  thee  Mimas,  which  you  will. 
The  Jove-slain  tyrant,  or  th'  Ionic  hill. 

Had  surfeits,  or  th'  ungracious  star, 

Conspir'd  to  make  one  commonplace 

Of  all  deformities  that  are 

Within  the  volume  of  thy  face. 

She  'd  lend  thee  favour  should  outmove 

The  Troy-bane  Helen,  or  the  Queen  of  Love. 

Were  thy  consum'd  estate  as  poor 

As  Laz'rus  or  afflided  Job's: 

She'll  change  thy  wants  to  seeming  stofe. 

And  turn  thy  rags  to  purple  robes ; 

She  'II  make  thy  hide-bound  flank  appear 

As  plump  as  theirs  that  feast  it  all  the  year. 

Look  off,  let  not  thy  optics  be 
Abus'd :  thou  seest  not  what  thou  should'st : 
Thyself 's  the  objecit  thou  should'st  see. 
But  'tis  the  shadow  thou  behold'st: 
And  shadows  thrive  the  more  in  stature. 
The  n-iarer  we  approach  the  light  of  nature. 

83 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Where  Heav'n's  bright  beams  look  more  dire<Jt. 

The  shadow  shrinks  as  they  grow  stronger. 

But  when  they  glance  their  fair  aspect. 

The  boM-fac'd  shade  grows  larger.  longer : 

And  when  their  lamp  begins  to  fall. 

Th*  increasing  shadows  lengthen  most  of  bU. 

The  soul  that  seeks  the  noon  of  grace. 
Shrinks  in,  but  swells  if  grace  retreat. 
As  Heav'n  lifts  up,  or  veils  his  face, 
Ouf  self-esteems  grow  less  or  great. 
The  least  is  greatest,  and  who  shall 
Appear  the  greatest,  are  the  least  of  all. 

From  Emblems,  Divine  and  Moral. 


WHAT  need  that  house  be  daub'd  with  flesh  and 
blood? 
Hung  round  with  silks  and  gold  ?  repair'd  with 
food? 
Cost  idly  spent !  that  cost  doth  but  prolong 
Thy  thraldom.  Fool,  thou  mak'st  thy  jail  too  strong. 

Epigram  No.  8,  Book  5. 


84 


W.  Habington 

William  Habington  (1605-1654) 

To  Caftara'' 

Softly  singing  to  herself 

SING  forth,  sweet  Cheruhin  (for  we  have  choice 
Of  reasons  in  thy  beauty,  and  thy  voice. 
To  name  thee  so,  and  scarce  appear  prophanc) 
Sing  forth,  that  while  the  orbs  celestial  straine 
To  echo  thy  sweet  note,  our  human  cars 
May  then  receive  the  music  of  the  spheres. 
But  yet  take  heed,  lest  if  the  swans  of  Thames, 
That  add  harmonious  pleasure  to  the  streams, 
O'  th'  sudden  hear  thy  well-divided  breath. 
Should  listen,  and  in  silence  welcome  death : 
And  ravisht  nightingales,  striving  too  high 
To  reach  thee,  in  the  emulation  die. 

And  thus  there  will  be  left  no  bird  to  sing 
Farewell  to  th'  waters,  welcome  to  the  spring. 

*  Luda  Habington.  his  wife,  daughter  of  William  Lord 
Powis. 


85 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 
Defcription  of  Caftara 

LIKE  the  violet,  which  alone 
Prospers  in  some  happy  shade ; 
My  Castara  lives  unknown. 
To  no  looser  eye  betray'd. 
For  she 's  to  her  self  untrue. 
Who  delights  i'  th'  public  view. 

Such  is  her  beauty,  as  no  arts 
Have  enricht  with  borrowed  grace. 
Her  high  birth  no  pride  imparts. 
For  she  blushes  in  her  place. 

Folly  boasts  a  glorious  blood. 

She  IS  noblest  being  good. 

Cautious,  she  knew  never  yet 

What  a  wanton  courtship  meant ; 

Not  speaks  loud  to  boast  her  wit. 

In  her  silence  eloquent. 

Of  herself  survey  she  takes. 

But  'tween  men  no  difference  makci. 

She  obeys  with  speedy  will 
Her  grave  parents'  wise  commands. 
And  so  innocent,  that  ill, 
86 


William  Habington 

She  nof  nAs,  not  understands. 
Women's  feet  run  still  astray. 
If  once  to  ill  they  know  the  way. 

She  sails  by  that  rock,  the  Court, 
Where  oft  honour  splits  her  mast : 
And  retir'dness  thinks  the  port. 
Where  her  fame  may  anchor  cast. 
Vertue  safely  cannot  sit. 
Where  vice  is  enthron'd  for  wit. 

She  holds  that  day's  pleasure  best. 
Where  sin  waits  not  on  delight : 
Without  mask,  or  ball,  or  feast. 
Sweetly  spends  a  winter's  night. 
O'er  that  darkness  whence  is  thrust 
Prayer,  and  sleep  oft  governs  lust. 

She  her  throne  makes  reason  climb. 
While  wild  passions  captive  lie : 
And  each  article  of  time. 
Her  pure  thoughts  to  Heaven  fly : 

All  her  vows  religious  be. 

And  her  love  she  vows  to  me. 


87 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 
To  the  Spring 

upon  tKe  uncertainty  of  Castara's  abode 

lAIR  mistress  of  the  Earth,  with  garlands  crown'd. 
Rise,  by  a  lover's  charm ;  from  the  parcht  ground. 
And  show  thy  flowery  wealth :  that  she,  where  ere 
Her  stars  shall  guide  her,  meet  thy  beauties  there. 
Should  she  to  the  cold  northern  climates  go. 
Force  the  affrighted  lillies  there  to  grow. 
Thy  roses  in  those  gelid  fields  t'  appear ; 
She  absent,  I  have  all  their  winter  here. 
Or  if  to  th'  torrid  zone  her  way  she  bend. 
Her  the  cool  breathing  of  Favonius  lend. 
Thither  command  the  birds  to  bring  their  quires : 
That  zone  is  temp'rate,  I  have  all  his  fires. 

Attend  her,  courteous  Spring,  though  we  should  here 
Lose  by  it  all  the  treasures  of  the  year. 


88 


T.  Nabbes 

Thomas  Nabbes  (1612? ) 

On  a  Miftrefs  of  whofe  Affedion 
He  was  Doubtful 

WHAT  though  with  figures  I  should  raise 
Above  all  height  my  mistress'  praise; 
Calling  her  cheek  a  blushing  rose. 
The  fairest  June  did  e'er  disclose ; 
Her  forehead,  lilies :  and  her  eyes. 
The  luminaries  of  the  skies ; 
That  on  her  lips  ambrosia  grows. 
And  from  her  kisses  nedar  flows? — 
Too  great  hyperboles !  unless 
She  loves  me,  she  is  none  of  these. 
But,  if  her  heart  and  her  desires 
Do  answer  mine  with  equal  fires. 
These  attributes  are  then  too  poof, — 
She  is  all  these,  and  tea  times  more. 


89 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 


liichard  Crafhaw  (1612-1648) 
The  Weeper 

HAIL  sister  Springs. 
Parents  of  silver-footed  rills  I 
Ever  bubbling  things ! 
Thawing  crystal !  Snowy  hills ! 
Still  spending,  never  spent :  I  mean 
Thy  fair  eyes,  sweet  Magdalene. 

Heavens  thy  fair  eyes  be ; 

Heavens  of  ever-falling  stars ; 

'Tis  seed-time  still  with  thee. 

And  stars  thou  sow'st.  whose  harvest  dares 

Promise  the  earth  to  countershine 

Whatever  makes  Heaven's  forehead  fine. 

(And  29  other  verses.) 
From  Steps  to  the  Temple. 


A  Song 


L 


ORD.  when  the  sense  of  Thy  sweet  grace 
Sends  up  my  soul  to  seek  Thy  face. 
Thy  blessed  eyes  breed  such  desire, 
90 


Richard  Crashaw 

I  die  in  Love's  delicious  fire. 

0  Love!  I  am  Thy  sacrifice. 

Be  still  triumphant,  blessed  eyes ; 
Still  shine  on  me,  fair  suns,  that  I 
Still  may  behold  though  still  I  die. 

Though  still  I  die.  I  live  again. 
Still  longing  so  to  be  still  slain : 
So  gainful  is  such  loss  of  breath, 

1  die  even  in  desire  of  death. 
Still  live  in  me  this  loving  strife 
Of  living  death  and  dying  life : 
For  while  thou  sweetly  slayest  me. 
Dead  to  myself,  I  live  in  Thee. 

From  Carmen  Deo  Nostro. 


The  Widow's  Mites 

Two  mites,  two  drops,  yet  all  her  house  and  land. 
Fall  from  a  steady  heart,  though  trembling  hand : 
The  other's  wanton  wealth  foams  high,  and  brave ; 
The  other  cast  away,  she  only  gave. 

From  Divine  Epigrams. 


9' 


Tte  Kings*  Lyrics 

THOUGH  now  'tis  neither  May  nof  June, 
And  nightingales  are  out  of  tunc. 
Yet  in  these  leaves,  fair  One,  there  lies 
(Sworn  servant  to  your  sweetest  eyes) 
A  nightingale,  who,  may  she  spread 
In  your  white  bosom  her  chaste  bed. 
Spite  of  all  the  maiden  snow 
Those  pure  untrodden  paths  can  show. 
You  straight  shall  see  her  wake  and  rise. 
Taking  fresh  life  from  your  fair  eyes. 
And  with  claspt  wings  proclaim  a  spring. 
Where  Love  and  she  shall  sit  and  sing; 
For  lodged  so  near  your  sweetest  throat 
What  nightingale  can  lose  her  note  ? 
Nor  let  her  kindred  birds  complain 
Because  she  breaks  the  year's  old  reign ; 
For  let  them  know  she's  none  of  those 
Hedge-quiristers  whose  music  owes 
Only  such  strains  as  serve  to  keep 
Sad  shades,  and  sing  dull  night  asleep. 
No.  she's  a  priestess  of  that  grove. 
The  holy  chapel  of  chaste  love. 
Your  virgin  bosom.  Then  whatc'er 
Poor  laws  divide  the  public  year. 
Whose  revolutions  wait  upon 
The  wild  turns  of  the  wanton  sun. 


93 


In  ntmriany  fratri/    dejiolcrafifrinii  icUni   Fran,  IfiMhci. 


Richard  Lovelace 

From  the  engraving  by  Hollar 

after  the  drawing  by  Colonel  Francis  Lovelace 


Richard  Lovelace 

Be  you  the  Lady  of  Love's  year. 
Where  your  eyes  shine  his  suns  appear. 
There  all  the  year  is  Love's  long  Spring, 

There  all  the  year 
Love's  nightingales  shall  sit  and  sing. 


J^ichard  Lovelace  (1618-1658) 
To  Lucafta.  Going  to  the  Warres 

TELL  me  not.  (sweet,)  I  am  unkinde. 
That  from  the  nunnerie 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and  quiet  minde 
To  warre  and  armes  I  flie. 

True:  a  new  Mistress  now  I  chase. 

The  first  foe  in  the  field. 
And  with  a  stronger  faith  embrace 

A  sword,  a  horse,  a  shield. 


Yet  this  inconstancy  is  such. 

As  you  too  shall  adore; 
I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  mucli, 

Lov'd  I  not  Honour  more. 

93 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Lucafta  Weeping 


L 


UCASTA  wept,  and  still  the  bright 

Inamour'd  god  of  day. 
With  his  soft  handle  etcher  of  light, 
Kist  the  wet  pearles  away. 


But  when  her  teares  his  heate  or'ccame 
In  cloudes  he  quensht  his  beames. 

And  griev'd,  wept  out  his  eye  of  flame. 
So  drowned  her  sad  streames. 

At  this  she  smiled,  when  straight  the  sun 
Cleer'd  by  her  kinde  desires : 

And  by  her  eyes'  reflexion 
Fast  kindl'd  there  his  fires. 


Upon  the  Curtaine  of  Lucafta' f 
Pidure 

OH,  stay  that  covetous  hand :  first  turn  all  eye. 
All  depth  and  minde ;  then  mystically  spyc 
Her  soul's  faire  pidure,  her  faire  soul's,  in  all 
So  truely  copied  from  th'  originall. 
That  you  will  sweare  her  body  by  this  law 
Is  but  its  shadow,  as  this,  its ;  —  now  draw. 

94 


Richard  Lovelace 

Ellinda's  Glove 

THOU  snowy  farme  with  thy  five  tenements  1 
Tell  thy  white  mistns  here  was  one. 
That  call'd  to  pay  his  dayly  rents; 
But  she  a-gathenng  flow'rs  and  hearts  is  gone. 
And  thou  left  voyd  to  rude  possession. 

But  grieve  not,  pretty  Ermin  cabinet. 
Thy  alabaster  lady  will  come  home ; 
If  not,  what  tenant  can  there  fit 
The  slender  turnings  of  thy  narrow  roome. 
But  must  ejected  be  by  his  owne  dombe? 

Then  give  me  leave  to  leave  my  rent  with  thee : 
Five  kisses,  one  unto  a  place : 
For  though  the  lute's  too  high  for  me. 
Yet  servants,  knowing  minikin  nor  base. 
Are  still  allow 'd  to  fiddle  with  the  case. 


The  Graffehopper 

To  my  noble  friend,  Mr.  Charles  Cotton 

OH  thou,  that  swing'st  upon  the  waving  eare 
Of  some  well-filled  oaten  beard. 
Drunk  ev'ry  night  with  a  delicious  teare 
Dropt  thee  from  Heav'n,  where  now  th'  art  rcard. 

9b 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

The  joyes  of  earth  and  ayfe  are  thine  intire. 

That  with  thy  feet  and  wings  doth  hop  and  flye; 

And  when  thy  poppy  workes.  thou  dost  retire 
To  thy  carv'd  acorn-bed  to  lye. 

Up  with  the  day.  the  Sun  thou  welcomst  then, 
Sportst  in  the  guilt  plats  of  his  beames. 

And  all  these  merry  dayes  mak'st  merry  men. 
Thy  selfe,  and  melancholy  streames. 

But  ah,  the  sickle  ?  golden  eares  are  cropt ; 

Ceres  and  Bacchus  bid  good  night : 
Sharpe  frosty  fingers  all  your  flowrs  have  topt. 

And  what  sithes  spar'd,  winds  shave  off  quite. 

Poore  verdant  foole !  and  now  green  ice.  thy  joys 
Large  and  as  lasting  as  thy  peirch  of  grasse. 

Bid  us  lay  in  'gainst  winter  raine,  and  poize 
Their  flouds  with  an  o'erflowing  glasse. 

Thou  best  of  men  and  friends  I  we  will  create 
A  genuine  summer  in  each  other's  breast : 

And  spite  of  this  cold  Time  and  frozen  Fate, 
Thaw  us  a  warm  seate  to  our  rest. 

Our  sacred  harthes  shall  burne  eternally 

As  vestal  flames :  the  North-wind,  he 
Shall  strike  his  frost-stretch'd  winges,  dissolve  and  flye 

This  i€tna  in  epitome. 
96 


Richard  Lovelace 

Dropping  December  shall  come  weeping  in, 

Bewayle  th'  usurping  of  his  raigne : 

But  when  in  show'rs  of  old  Creeke*  we  beginnc. 

Shall  crie,  he  hath  his  crowne  againe !     *  Greek 

Wine 

Night  as  cleare  Hesper  shall  our  tapers  whip 
From  the  light  casements,  where  we  play. 

And  the  dark  hagge  from  her  black  mantle  strip. 
And  sticke  there  everlasting  day. 

Thus  richer  then  untempted  kings  are  we. 

That  asking  nothing,  nothing  need : 
Though  lord  of  all  what  seas  im  brace,  yet  he 

That  wants  himselfe,  is  poore  indeed. 


The  Vintage  to  the  Dungeon 

SING  out,  pent  soules,  sing  cheerefully! 
Care  shackles  you  in  liberty : 
Mirth  frees  you  in  captivity. 
Would  you  double  fetters  addc  ? 
Else  why  so  sadde  ? 
Chorus : 

Besides  your  pinion'd  armes  youl  finde 
Criefe  too  can  manakell  the  mindc. 

97 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

live  then,  pris'ners.  uncontfoll'd : 
Drink  o'  th'  strong,  the  rich,  the  old. 
Till  wine  too  hath  your  wits  in  hold ; 

Then  if  still  your  jollitie 

And  throats  are  free — 
Chorus : 
Tryumph  in  your  bondes  and  paines. 
And  dance  to  the  music  of  your  chaines 


To  Althea 

From  Prison 

WHEN  love  with  unconfined  wings 
Hovers  within  my  gates: 
And  my  divine  Althea  brings 
To  whisper  at  the  grates : 
When  I  lye  tangled  in  her  haire. 

And  fettered  to  her  eye. 
The  birds,  that  wanton  in  the  aif^ 
Know  no  such  liberty. 

When  flowing  cups  run  swiftly  round 

With  no  allaying  Thames, 
Our  carelesse  heads  with  roses  bound. 

Our  hearts  with  loyal  flames: 
98 


Richard  Lovelace 

When  thirsty  griefe  in  wine  we  steepc. 
When  healths  and  draughts  go  free. 

Fishes,  that  tipple  in  the  deepe. 
Know  no  such  Iibertie. 


When  (like  committed  linnets)  I 

With  shriller  throat  shall  sing 
Yhe  sweetnes,  mercy,  majesty. 

And  glories  of  my  King. 
When  I  shall  voyce  aloud,  how  good 

He  is,  how  great  should  be, 
Inlarged  winds,  that  curie  the  flood. 

Know  no  such  liberty. 

Stone  walls  doe  not  a  prison  make. 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage : 
Mindes  innocent  and  quiet  take 

That  for  an  hermitage  : 
If  I  have  freedome  in  my  love. 

And  iin  my  soule  am  free. 
Angels  alone  that  sore  above 

Enjoy  such  liberty. 


99 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 


Richard  Brome  (16  ••  -1652) 


Beggars'  Song 


COME  I  Come  away  I  the  Spring, 
By  every  bird  that  can  but  sing 
Or  chirp  a  note,  doth  now  invite 
Us  forth  to  taste  of  his  delight. 
In  field,  in  grove,  on  hill,  in  dale ; 
But  above  all  the  nightingale, 
"Who  in  her  sweetness  strives  t'ootdo 
The  loudness  of  the  hoarse  cuckoo. 
"Cuckoo,"  cries  he:  "Jug.  jug,  jug,"  sings  she: 
From  bush  to  bush,  from  tree  to  tree : 
"Why  in  one  place  then  tarry  we  ? 

Come  away  I  Why  do  we  stay  ? 
We  have  no  debts  or  rent  to  pay : 
No  bargains  or  accounts  to  make. 
Nor  land  nor  lease,  to  let  or  take : 
Or  if  we  had.  should  that  remorc*  us 
"When  all  the  world's  our  own  before  us. 
And  where  we  pass  and  make  resort, 

•flemore— hinder:  from  Remora.  the  name  of  afish  supposed 
to  stick  to  ships  and  retard  their  progress. 
100 


Xnfci'cndtif  WHWcvihmgtaik  ■ 


James  Shirley 
After  the  original  pidture  in  the  Bodleian  Gallery 


James  Shirley 


It  is  oof  kingdom  and  ouf  court. 

"Cuckoo,"  cries  he;  "Jug,  jug.  jug,"  sings  she: 

From  bush  to  bush,  from  tree  to  tree : 

Why  in  one  place  then  tarry  we  ? 

From  A  Jovial  Crew,  or  the  Merry  Beggars. 


James  Shirley  (1594-1666) 


Peace  I(eftored 

OU  virgins,  that  did  late  despair 

To  keep  your  wealth  from  cruel  men. 
Tie  up  in  silk  your  careless  hair : 
Soft  peace  is  come  again. 


Y 


Now  lovers*  eyes  may  gently  shoot 

A  flame  that  will  not  kill ; 
The  drum  was  angry,  but  the  lute 

Shall  whisper  what  you  will. 

Sing  lo,  lo !  for  his  sake 

That  hath  restored  your  drooping  heads; 
With  choice  of  sweetest  flowers  make 

A  garden  where  he  treads ; 

lOI 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Whilst  we  whole  groves  of  laurel  bring, 

A  petty  triumph  for  his  brow. 
Who  is  the  master  of  our  spring 

And  all  the  bloom  we  owe. 

From  The  Imposture. 


Death'r  Subtle  Waj/s 

VICTORIOUS  men  of  earth,  no  more 
Proclaim  how  wide  your  empires  are ; 
Though  you  bind  in  every  shore 
And  your  triumphs  reach  as  far 

As  night  or  day. 
Yet  you.  proud  monarchs,  must  obey 
And  mingle  with  forgotten  ashes  when 
Death  calls  ye  to  the  crowd  of  common  men. 

Devouring  Famine.  Plague,  and  War, 

Each  able  to  undo  mankind. 
Death's  servile  emissaries  are ; 
Nor  to  these  alone  confined. 

He  hath  at  will 
More  quaint  and  subtle  ways  to  kill : 
A  smile  or  kiss,  as  he  will  use  the  art. 
Shall  have  the  cunning  skill  to  break  a  heart. 

From  Copid  and  Death ;  A  Masque. 
1 02 


James  Shirley 


No  Armour  Againft  Fate 

THE  glories  of  our  blood  and  state 
Are  shadows,  not  substantial  things ; 
There  is  no  armour  against  Fate ; 
Death  lays  his  icy  hand  on  kings : 
Sceptre  and  crown 
Must  tumble  down. 
And  in  the  dust  be  equal  made 
With  the  poor  crooked  scythe  and  spade. 

Some  men  with  swords  may  reap  the  field. 
And  plant  fresh  laurels  where  they  kill : 
But  their  strong  nerves  at  last  must  yield ; 
They  tame  but  one  another  still : 
Early  or  late. 
They  stoop  to  fate. 
And  must  give  up  their  murmuring  breath. 
When  they,  pale  captives,  creep  to  death. 

The  garlands  wither  on  your  brow. 

Then  boast  no  more  your  mighty  deeds; 
Upon  Death's  purple  altar  now. 
See  where  the  vidor-vidtim  bleeds : 
Your  heads  must  come 
To  the  cold  tomb ; 
Only  the  acltions  of  the  just 
Smell  sweet  and  blossom  in  their  dust. 

From  The  Contention  of  Ajax  and  Ulysws. 
103 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 


John  Milton  (1608-1674) 
On  May  Morning 

Now  the  bright  Morning  Star,  day's  harbinger. 
Comes  dancing  from  the  east,  and  leads  with  her 
The  flowery  May.  who  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cowslip,  and  the  pale  primrose. 
Hail,  bounteous  May,  that  dost  inspire 
Mirth,  and  youth,  and  warm  desire ! 
Woods  and  groves  are  of  thy  dressing. 
Hill  and  dale  doth  boast  thy  blessing : 
Thus  we  salute  thee  with  our  early  song. 
And  welcome  thee,  and  wish  thee  long ! 


O'er  the  Smooth  Enamelled 
Green 

O'ER  the  smooth  enamelled  green. 
Where  no  print  of  step  hath  been. 
Follow  me,  as  I  sing 
And  touch  the  warbled  string: 
Under  the  shady  roof 
Of  branching  elm  star-proof 
104 


John  Milton 
From  the  engraving  by  George  Vertuc 


John  Milton 


Follow  me. 
I  •will  bring  you  where  she  sits. 
Clad  m  splendour,  as  befits 

Her  deity. 
Such  a  rural  queen 
All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen. 

From  Arcades. 


Nymphs  and  Shepherds^  Dance 
no  More 

NYMPHS  and  shepherds,  dance  no  more 
By  sandy  Ladon's  lilied  banks : 
On  old  LycjEus  or  Cyllene  hoar. 
Trip  no  more  in  twilight  ranks: 
Though  Erymanth  your  loss  deplore, 
A  better  soil  shall  give  ye  thanks. 
From  the  stony  Maenalus 
Bring  your  flocks  and  live  with  us ; 
Here  ye  shall  have  better  grace. 
To  serve  the  Lady  of  this  place. 
Though  Syrinx  your  Pan's  mistress  were. 
Yet  Syrinx  well  might  wait  on  her. 
Such  a  rural  queen 
All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen. 

from  Arcades. 
»o5 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

BY  the  rushy-fringed  bank. 
Where  grows  the  willow  and  the  osier  dank. 
My  sliding  chariot  stays. 
Thick  set  with  agate,  and  the  azure  sheen 
Of  turquoise  blue,  and  emerald  green. 
That  in  the  channel  strays : 
"Whilst  from  off  the  waters  fleet 
Thus  I  set  my  printless  feet 
O'er  the  cowslip's  velvet  head. 
That  bends  not  as  I  tread : 
Gentle  swam,  at  thy  request 
I  am  here. 

From  Comos. 


On  the  Nightingale 

O  NIGHTINGALE,  that  on  yon  bloomy  spray 
Warblest  at  eve,  when  all  the  woods  are  still. 
Thou  with  fresh  hope  the  lover's  heart  dost  fill 
While  the  jolly  hours  lead  on  propitious  May. 
Thy  liquid  notes  that  close  the  eye  of  day. 
First  heard  before  the  shallow  cuckoo's  bill. 
Portend  success  in  love.  Oh.  if  Jove's  will 
1 06 


John  Milton 

Have  link'd  that  amoufous  power  to  thy  soft  lay. 
Now  timely  sing,  ere  the  fude  bird  of  hate 
Foretell  ray  hopeless  doom  in  some  grove  nigh : 
As  thou  from  year  to  year  hast  sung  too  late 
For  my  relief,  yet  hadst  no  reason  why : 
"Whether  the  Muse,  or  Love,  call  thee  his  mate. 
Both  them  I  serve,  and  of  their  train  am  I. 


107 


_/u^  ^ixLrt3 huLuiiwv\^yanma/}nUa..itriebrtt, 


Michael  Drayton 
After  the  engraving  by  William  Hole 


The  Ballad  of  Agincourt 

BY 

Michael  Drayton 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

Which  in  his  height  of  pride. 
As  Henry  to  deride. 
His  ransorae  to  prouide 

Unto  him  sending ; 
Which  he  neglects  the  while. 
As  from  a  nation  vyie. 
Yet  with  an  angry  smile 

Their  fall  portending. 


And  turning  to  his  men. 
Quoth  famous  Henry  then. 
Though  they  be  one  to  ten. 

Be  not  amazed : 
Yet  haue  we  well  begun : 
Battailes  so  brauely  wonne 
Euermore  to  the  Sonne 

By  fame  are  raysed. 

And  for  my  selfe,  (quoth  hee) 
This  my  full  rest  shall  bee, 
England  nere  mourne  for  me. 

Nor  more  esteeme  me : 
Vidlor  I  will  remaine. 
Or  on  this  earth  be  slainc : 
Neuer  shall  she  sustaine 

Losse  to  redeeme  me. 

113 


Michael  Drayton 

Poitefs  and  Cressy  tell, 

"When  moste  theif  pride  did  swell. 

Under  ouf  swords  they  fell : 

Ne  lesse  our  skill  is. 
Then  when  our  grandsyre  greate. 
Claiming  the  regall  seatc. 
In  many  a  warlike  feate 

Lop'd  the  French  Iillics. 

The  Duke  of  York  soe  dread 
The  eager  vaward  led : 
With  the  maine  Henry  sped 

Amongst  his  hench  men. 
Excester  had  the  rear. 
A  brauer  man  not  there. 
And  now  preparing  were 

For  the  false  Frenchmen 


And  ready  to  be  gone. 
Armour  on  armour  shone. 
Drum  unto  drum  did  grone. 

To  hear  was  woonder : 
That  with  the  cries  they  make 
The  very  earth  did  shake : 
Trumpet  to  trumpet  spake. 

Thunder  to  thunder. 

"3 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Well  it  thine  age  became, 
O,  noble  Erpingham  I 
That  didst  the  signall  frame 

Unto  the  forces ; 
When  from  a  medow  by. 
Like  a  storme,  sodainely 
The  English  archery 

Stuck  the  French  horses. 

The  Spanish  ughe  so  strong, 
Arrowes  a  cloth-yard  long. 
That  like  to  serpent."  stoong. 

Piercing  the  wether : 
None  from  his  death  now  starts. 
But  playing  manly  parts. 
And  like  true  English  harts 

Stuck  close  together. 

When  down  theyr  bowes  they  threw. 
And  foorth  theyr  bilbowes  drewe. 
And  on  the  French  they  flew. 

No  man  was  tardy. 
Arms  from  the  shoulders  sent. 
Scalps  to  the  teeth  were  rent ; 
Downe  the  French  pesants  went 

These  were  men  hardye. 
114 


Michael  Drayton 

When  now  that  noble  King, 
His  broad  sword  brandishing. 
Into  the  hoast  did  fling. 

As  to  or'whelme  it : 
Who  many  a  deep  wound  lent. 
His  armes  with  blood  besprent. 
And  many  a  cruell  dent 

Brused  his  helmett. 


Clo'ster  that  Duke  so  good. 
Next  to  the  royall  blood. 
For  famous  England  stood 

With  his  braue  brother : 
Clarence  in  Steele  most  bright. 
That  yet  a  maiden  knighte. 
Yet  in  this  furious  fighte 

Scarce  such  an  other. 

Warwick  in  blood  did  wade, 
Oxford  the  foes  inuade. 
And  cruel  slaughter  made 

Still  as  they  ran  up : 
Suffolk  his  axe  did  ply, 
Beaumont  and  Willoughby 
Bare  them  right  doughtyly, 

Ferrers  and  Fanhope. 

"5 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

On  happy  Cfyspia  day 
Fooght  was  this  noble  fray, 
"Which  fame  did  not  delay 

To  England  to  carry. 
O !  when  shall  Englishmen 
With  such  adts  fill  a  pen. 
Or  England  breed  agen 

Such  a  King  Harry  ? 


FINIS 


/isLc^ /3<>n /3<^  f^sUn /a<>=\ /sO^n  z:^ 
^r       ^r       >r*       *y*       "y*       "y*       *y*        t*       *t         "t  y*       *▼         *t  t*       *t 

INDEX  TO  AUTHORS 

With  first  Lines  of  tKeir  Poems 

Bromey  J^/chard  (i 6.. -1652) 

Come!  Come  away!  the  Spring  lOO 

Browne y  William  (1590-1650?) 

Steer  hither,  steer  your  winged  pines  35 

Venus  by  Adonis'  side  36 

Campion  y   Thomas  (6 191—) 

Harden  now  thy  tired  heart  with  more  than  flinty  rage  4 

Love  me  or  not,  love  her  I  must  or  die  5 

Maids  to  bed  and  cover  coal  6 

Never  love  unless  you  can  6 

Now  winter  nights  enlarge  7 

There  is  a  garden  in  her  face  8 

Cartwrighty  William  (16 11-1643) 

Tell  me  not  of  Joy  I  there  *s  none  74 

Chloe.  why  wish  you  that  your  years  75 

Carew,    Thomas  (1598-1638) 

Know.  Celia,  since  thou  art  so  proud  52 

He  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek  53 

Hark,  how  my  Celh,  with  the  choice  54 

Ask  me  no  more  where  Joce  bestows  55 

"7 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

In  Love's  name  you  are  charged  hereby  56 

Fate's  now  grown  merciful  to  men  58 

Farewell,  fair  Saint !  may  not  the  sea  and  wind  59 

Be  fixed,  you  rapid  Orbs,  that  bear  60 

Charles  /.,  King  (i  600-1 649) 

Great  Monarch  of  the  world,  from  whose  power 

springs  1 9 

Close  thine  eyes,  and  sleep  secure  22 

CrafhaWj  B^ichard  (1612-1648) 

Hail  sister  Springs  90 

Lord,  when  the  sense  of  Thy  sweet  grace  90 

Two  mites,  two  drops,  yet  all  her  house  and  land  91 

Though  now  'tis  neither  May  nor  June  92 

Drayton^  Michael  (1563-1631) 

Fayre  stood  the  winde  for  France  iii 

Drummondy   William  (i  5851 649) 

Sweet  bird,  that  sing'st  away  the  early  hours  14 

I  know  that  all  beneath  the  moon  decays  14 

Phoebus,  arise  J  5 

Sweet  Spring,  thou  com'st  with  all  thy  goodly  train  17 

My  lute,  be  as  thou  wert  when  thou  didst  grow  18 

O  do  not  kill  that  bee  18 

Fanfhawe^  Sir  Richard  (1607-1666) 

Let  us  use  it  while  we  may  oo 
118 


Index  to  Authors 
Farley^  Henry 

To  see  a  strange  outlandish  fowl  13 

Grahame^  James:  Marquis  of 
Montr  of e  (16 1 2-1 650) 

My  dear  and  only  love,  I  pray  25 

Great,  good,  and  just,  could  I  but  rate  27 

Habington^  William  (1605-1654) 

Sing  forth,  sweet  Cherubm  (for  we  have  choice  85 

Like  the  violet,  which  alone  86 

Fair  mistress  of  the  Earth,  with  garlands  crown'd  88 

Herbert,    George  (i593-'633) 

I  had  prepared  many  a  flowre  45 

Lord,  with  what  care  hast  Thou  begirt  us  round  45 

Who  says  that  ficJtions  onely  and  false  hair  46 
Sweetest  of  sweets.  I  thank  you :  when  displeasure     47 

My  God.  a  verse  is  not  a  crown  48 

Money,  thou  bane  of  blisse  and  source  of  wo  48 

Love  built  a  stately  house,  where  Fortune  came  49 

The  merrie  World  did  on  a  day  50 

Love  bade  me  welcome;  yet  my  soul  drew  back  51 

Her  rick,  I(obert  (i  591-1674) 

A  sweet  disorder  in  the  dress  37 

About  the  sweet  bag  of  a  bee  37 

As  Julia  once  a-slumbenng  lay  38 

119 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Gather  ye  fose-buds  while  ye  may  40 

As  lately  I  a  garland  bound  41 

Ye  have  been  fresh  and  green  41 

Who  forms  a  godhead  out  of  gold  of  stone  42 

Fair  daffodils,  we  weep  to  see  42 

Shut  not  so  soon ;  the  dull-ey'd  night  43 

Fair  pledges  of  a  fruitful  tree  44 

James  /.,  King  (1566-1625) 

As  I  was  pansing  in  a  morning  aire  i 

We  find  by  proof,  that  into  every  age  3 

Cod  gives  not  kings  the  stile  of  Cods  in  vaine  4 

Jonefy  liobert 

And  is  it  night?  are  they  thine  eyes  that  shine?  9 

Soft,  Cupid,  soft,  there  is  no  haste  10 

The  sea  hath  many  thousand  sands  10 

Lovelace^  I(ichard  (i 6181 658) 

Tell  me  not,  (sweet,)  I  am  unkinde  93 

Lucasta  wept,  and  still  the  bright  94 

Oh,  stay  that  covetous  hand ;  first  turn  all  eye  94 

Thou  snowy  farme  with  thy  five  tenements  95 

Oh  thou,  that  swing'st  upon  the  waving  care  95 

Sing  out,  pent  soules.  sing  cheerfully  97 

When  love  with  unconfined  wings  98 

Middle  ton  ^   Thomas  (1570?-!  627) 

Happy  times  we  live  to  see  la 
120 


Index  to  Authors 

Milton^  John  (i 608-1 674) 

Now  the  bright  Morning  Star,  day's  harbinger  104 

O'er  the  smooth  enamelled  green  104 

Nymphs  and  shepherds,  dance  no  more  105 

By  the  rushy  fringed  bank  106 

O  nightingale,  that  on  yon  bloomy  spray  106 

Nabbesj   Thomas  (1612?—) 

What  though  with  figures  I  should  raise  89 

Ouar/ess  Francis  (i  592-1664) 

Know  then,  my  brethren,  heaven  is  clear  77 

What,  Cupid,  are  thy  shafts  already  made?  79 

False  world,  thou  ly'st :  thou  canst  not  lend  79 

My  heart!  but  wherefore  do  I  call  thee  so  81 
Look  not,  my  watch,  being  once  repair 'd,  to  stand     82 

Believe  her  not.  her  glass  diffuses  82 

What  need  that  house  be  daub'd  with  flesh  and 

blood?  84 

Sandys^   George  (i577-'^3) 

The  Muse  who  from  your  influence  took  her  birth     23 
Chaste  Nymph,  you  who  extraded  are  24 

Thou  brought'st  me  home  in  safety,  that  this  earth      24 

Shirley^  James  (1594-1666) 

You  virgins,  that  did  late  despair  10 1 


121 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

Victorious  men  of  earth,  no  more  loa 

The  glories  of  our  blood  and  state  103 

Sucklings  Sir  John  (i  609-1 641) 

I  tell  thee.  Dick,  where  I  have  been  6i 

One  of  her  hands  one  of  her  cheeks  lay  under  66 

Dost  see  how  unregarded  now  67 

The  little  boy.  to  show  his  might  and  power  68 

Hast  thou  seen  the  down  in  the  air  69 

I  am  a  man  of  war  and  might  69 

Why  so  pale  and  wan.  fond  lovef?  70 

Out  upon  it.  I  have  loved  71 

I  prithee  send  me  back  my  heart  72 

There's  one  request  I  make  to  Him  73 

Vauter^   Thomas 

Sweet  Suffolk  owl,  so  trimly  dight  ii 

Wither,  George  (15881667) 

Shall  I,  wasting  in  despair  27 

Now  gentle  sleep  hath  closed  up  those  eyes  29 

Amaryllis  I  did  woo  30 

Lordly  gallants,  tell  me  this  30 

Hence,  away,  thou  Siren,  leave  mc  31 

Farewell,  sweet  groves,  to  you  34 


I  as 


THE   TABLE 

or.  Index  to  first  Lines 


A  bout  the  sweet  bag  of  a  bee  (Herrkk)  37 

''*  Amaryllis  I  did  woo  ( Wither)  30 
And  IS  It  night?  are  they  thine  eyes  that  shine? 

(Jones)                       ...  9 

As  I  was  pansing  in  a  morning  aire  (King  fames  I.)  i 

As  Julia  once  a-slumbering  lay  (Herrick)  38 

Ask  me  no  more  where  /oce  bestows  (Careic)  55 

As  lately  I  a  garland  bound  (Herrick)  41 

A  sweet  disorder  in  the  dress  (Herrick)  37 

B 

l>e  fixed,  you  rapid  Orbs,  that  bear  (Carew)  60 

Believe  her  not.  her  glass  diffuses  (Quarks)  82 

By  the  rushy  fringed  bank  (Milton)  106 

c 

^haste  Nymph,  you  who  extra(ited  are  (Sandys)  24 
Chloe,  why  wish  you  that  your  years  (Cart- 
wright)  75 
Close  thine  eyes,  and  sleep  secure  (King  Charles 

I.)  22 

Come  !  Come  away  !  the  Spring  (Richard  Brome)  1 00 

D 

T\os\  see  how  unregarded  now  (Suckling)  67 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 


pair  daffodils,  we  weep  to  see  (Herrkk)  43 
Fair  mistress  of  the  Earth,  with  garlands  crown'd 

(Habington)  88 

Fair  pledges  of  a  fruitful  tree  (Herrkk)  44 
False   world,    thou    ly'st;    thou    canst   not   lend 

(Quarles)  79 
Farewell,  fair  Saint!  may  not  the  sea  and  wind 

(Carew)  59 

Farewell,  sweet  groves,  to  you  (  Withsr)  34 

Fate's  now  grown  merciful  to  men  (Carew)  58 

Fayre  stood  the  winde  for  France  (Drayton)  in 


/^ather  ye  rose-buds  while  ye  may  (Herrkk)  40 

God  gives  not  kings  the  stile  of  Cods  in  vame 

(King  fames  I.)  4 

Great,  good,  and  just,  could  I  but  rate  (Grahame)  27 

Great  Monarch  of  the  world,  from  whose  power 

springs  (King  Charles  I.)  19 

H 

I-Iail  sister  Springs  (Crashaw)  90 

Happy  times  we  live  to  see  (Middleton)  12 
Harden  now  thy  tired  heart  with  more  than  flinty 

rage  (Campion)  4 

Hark,  how  my  Celia,  with  the  choice  (Careic)  54 

Hast  thou  seen  the  down  in  the  air  (Suckling)  69 

Hence,  away,  thou  Siren,  leave  me  (Wither)  31 

He  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek  (Carew)  53 
124 


Index  to  First  Lines 


T  am  a  man  of  war  and  might  (Suckling)  69 

I  had  prepared  many  a  flowre  (Herbert)  45 
I  know  that  all  beneath  the  moon  decays  (Drum- 

mond)  14 

In  Love's  name  you  are  charged  hereby  (Carew)  56 

I  prithee  send  me  back  my  heart  (Suckling)  72 

I  tell  thee,  Dick,  where  I  have  been  (Suckling)  61 

K 

l/'now,  Celia,  since  thou  art  so  proud  (Carew)  52 
Know   then,    my   brethren,   heaven   is   clear 

(Quarles)  jj 


J  et  us  use  it  while  we  may  (Fanshawe)  60 

Like  the  violet,  which  alone  (Habington)  86 
Look  not.  my  watch,  being  once  repair'd,  to  stand 

(Quarles)  82 

Lordly  gallants,  tell  me  this  ( Wither)  30 

Lord,  when  the  sense  of  Thy  sweet  grace  (Crashaw)  90 
Lord,  with  what  care  hast  Thou  begirt  us  round 

(Herbert)  45 
Love  bade  me  welcome;  yet  ray  soul  drew  back 

(Herbert)  51 
Love  built  a  stately  house,  where  Fortune  came 

(Herbert)  49 

Love  me  or  not.  love  hef  I  must  or  die  (Camp/on)  5 

Lucasta  wept,  and  still  the  bright  (Lovelace)  94 

'25 


The  Kings'  Lyrics 

M 

"Vf  aids  to  bed  and  cover  coal  (Camphn)  6 
Money,  thou  bane  of  blisse  and  source  of  wo 

(Herbert)  48 

My  dear  and  only  love,  I  pray  (Grahame)  25 

My  Cod,  a  verse  is  not  a  crown  (Herbert)  48 

My  heart !  but  wherefore  do  I  call  thee  so ?  ( Quarles)  8 1 
My  lute,  be  as  thou  wert  when  thou  didst  grow 

(Drummond)  18 
iV 

T^ever  love  unless  you  can  (Camphn)  6 
^  Now  gentle  sleep  hath  closM  up  those  eyes 

(Wither)  29 
Now  the  bright  Morning  Star,  day's  harbinger 

(Milton)  104 

Now  winter  nights  enlarge  (Campion)  j 

Nymphs  and  shepherds,  dance  no  more  (Milton)  105 

o 

/^  do  not  kill  that  bee  (Drummond)  18 

^"^  O'er  the  smooth  enamelled  green  (Milton)  104 
Oh,  stay  that  covetous  hand:  first  turn  all  eye 

(Locelace)  94 
Oh  thou,  that  swing'st  upon  the  waving  eare  (Loce- 
lace) 95 
One  of  her  hands  one  of  her  cheeks  lay  under 

(Suckling)  66 

O  nightingale,  that  on  yon  bloomy  spray  (Milton)  106 

Out  upon  it,  I  have  loved  (Suckling)  71 

P 

phocbus,  arise  (Drummond)  15 

126 


Index  to  First  Lines 
s 

Ohall  I.  wasting  m  despair  ( Wither)  27 

Shut  not  so  soon ;  the  dull-ey'd  night  (Herrick)  43 
Sing  forth,  sweet  Cherubin  (for  we  have  choice 

(Habington)  85 

Sing  out,  pent  soules.  sing  cheerfully  (Locelace)  97 

Soft,  Cupid,  soft,  there  is  no  haste  (Jones)  10 

Steer  hither,  steer  your  winged  pines  (Brotcne)  35 
Sweet   bird,   that   sing'st    away  the   early   hours 

(Drummond)  14 
Sweetest  of  sweets.  I  thank  you :  when  displeasure 

(Herbert)  47 
Sweet  Spring,  thou  com'st  with  all  thy  goodly 

train  (Drummond)  17 

Sweet  Suffolk  owl,  so  trimly  dight  (Vauter)  11 

T 

•yell  me  not  of  joy!  there  's  none  (Cartwright)  74 

Tell  me  not,  (sweet.)  I  am  unkmde  (Locelace)  93 

The  glories  of  our  blood  and  state  (Shirley)  103 
The  little  boy.  to   show  his  might  and    power 

(Suckling)  68 

The  merrie  World  did  on  a  day  (Herbert)  50 
The  Muse  who  from  your  influence  took  hef  birth 

(Sandys)                                       ^  23 

There  is  a  garden  in  her  face  (Campion)  8 

There's  one  request  I  make  to  Him  (Suckling)  73 

The  sea  hath  many  thousand  sands  (Jones)  10 
Thou  brought'st  me  home  in  safety,  that  this  earth 

(Sandys)  24 
Thou  snowy  farme  with  thy  five  tenements  (Loce- 
lace) 9S 
»*7 


The  Kings*  Lyrics 

Though  now  'tis  neither  May  nor  June  (Crashaic)  9^ 

To  see  a  strange  outlandish  fowl  (Farley)  13 
Two  mites,  two  drops,  yet  all  her  house  and  land 

{Crashaic)  91 

V 

\renus  by  Adonis'  side  {Browne)  36 

Victorious  men  of  earth,  no  more  {Shirley)      102 

w 

TYTe  find  by  proof,  that  into  every  age  {King 

fames  I.)  3 

What.Cupid.  are  thy  shafts  already  made?  (Quar/gs)  79 
What  need  that  house  be  daub'd  with  flesh  and 

blood  ?  {Quarles)  84 

What  though  with  figures  I  should  raise  {Nabbes)  89 

When  love  with  unconfined  wings  {Lovelace)  98 
Who  forms  a  godhead  out  of  gold  or  stone  {Her- 

rick)  42 
Who  says  that  fictions  onely  and  false  hair  {Her- 
bert) 46 
Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover?  {Suckling)  70 

Y 

Ve  have  been  fresh  and  green  {Herrick)  41 

You  virgins,  that  did  late  despair  {Shirley)       10 1 


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